


A Finch On A  Dodge Dart

by atinylemon



Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Lodge Doge, M/M, Post Peaks, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atinylemon/pseuds/atinylemon
Summary: "A man who doesn't love easily, loves too much."Sheriff Harry Truman loves a lot of things deeply and takes his obligations seriously.When rain threatens the town and a cold puts him out of commission, with no Coop to steady him, Harry considers if his tendency to "love too much" is such a good thing.





	1. Friday, September 29th 1989

**Author's Note:**

> Hold on to your hats: It's an angsty AU sickfic. That's the long and short of it.  
> Fun Fact! In the year 1989 October 16th was also a Monday. So it corresponds to the week I'm posting this! Neat. Maybe? Yes. Kinda.  
> Things to know:  
> This piece presumes things worked out Lodge wise for Dale (somehow) and he and Harry move in together.  
> Also they have dogs! Bessie (a basset hound) and Barkley (a chocolate lab).  
> As usually thanks to Archive User: Sbubby for her patience, keen discernment and inspiration for the layout of this one. 
> 
> Oh Right! We saw [this amazing work](http://gorillaprutt.tumblr.com/post/162374080571/coopertruman-my-lovely-men-of-justice-i-love%0A) by Tumblr User:[Gorillaprutt](http://gorillaprutt.tumblr.com%0A). Needless to say, things escalated quickly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mornings for Harry generally mean Coffee, Coop, and Cuddles. For Dale, "cuddles" are an understatement.

There was a rhythm to Dale Cooper’s morning routine. It wasn’t exceptionally loud, at least, not anymore. Even with the aches and pains of the old cabin, it was relatively quiet. 

At the request of his new housemate Diane updates were regulated to after his morning yoga practice, and would only begin when coffee started percolating. By the time it was ready, Harry Truman would have shuffled into the living room, still warm from their bed, with a quick kiss for Dale and a “G’morning” for Diane.  
The house hummed when he was home and Harry was grateful for it. 

The fall had swathed their home in gold and fire, the likes of which Dale had never seen. The scenery made the raking of leaves meditative for Dale and Harry’s back couldn't have been happier. A few choice specimen were pressed into several books until Dale figured out what to do with them. Occasionally, they were paraded out to be scrutinized by Harry, which lead to a new house rule, “No leaves at the breakfast table.” Dale seemed to think this was fair. 

“When's your flight?” Harry tried to sound neutral as he stirred his oatmeal. 

“10, nothing outlandish.”

“Then I may as well drive you.”

“There's really no need.”

“I'd be back in time for roll call. Darlin, would ya let me be your boyfriend? Driving to the airport is part of the job.”

Dale smiled over his coffee, “I suppose I can't argue with that.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn't try your luck. When will you be home?”

“It sounds fairly open and shut but you never can be too sure with these things.” Dale took a sip of coffee and nodded. “I'd say two weeks tops. Today’s what? The 29th? I'd say I'll be home around the 12th or 13th? I'll know better when I'm briefed.”

“Guess I'll...put it on the calendar.”

Dale got up and moved behind Harry, coffee kisses warmed his neck. “Stay home today.”

“You're a bad influence Dale Cooper. What are they teaching you boys at the FBI?” Harry leaned his head back into Dale’s chest. 

By his collarbone, Dale murmured, “All sorts of things. If you stay home, I could show you.”

“Coop…” Harry tried to protest but closed his eyes instead. 

“Special Agent Dale Cooper,” Dale said with a humoured authority between kisses.

“....Agent Cooper,” Harry blushed and cracked a smile. “...I've…gotta go to work-” but he knew that was it, it was over. 

“I don't know Sheriff Truman, you look awfully flushed.” Dale turned Harry's chair away from the table so he could see all of him. “I think I had better get you to bed.” 

“Why do I get the feeling that resting is the last thing you have in mind?”

Slipping his hands underneath Harry's shirt, Dale could feel a shuddered sigh work through his body and he smiled. 

“Oh but I can guarantee you'll feel better.”

“Dale…”

Dale kneeled down and rolled up Harry's shirt to kiss his chest. Then his eyes fluttered open just enough to make Harry's heart stop, “Harry….would you let me be your boyfriend?”

“I guess...I can't….can't argue with that.”

“Harry, I wish you would. I can be very persuasive.”

“I've….noticed.” He leaned down and kissed Dale's lips, “Lemme make a phone call.”

Dale stood up and worked his hands roughly through Harry's hair. “Don't be long.”

“Right.”

Harry's pounding heart made him dizzy and warm as he stood up. He'd stop by the station later. The 12th or 13th was a ways away, but here together in the house, time was theirs, who could begrudge them the morning?


	2. Monday, October 16th 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No coffee, no cuddles, no Coop. Harry has an off day but not a day off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less Fun Fact: I have no idea how flood maintenance works, or how police officers contribute to that, or what sheriff's really do. If you're reading this and you're a sheriff, lemme know.

**Monday, October 16th 1989, 7:15am - A late start**

The heat of Dale’s body next to him was still fresh in his mind, 3 weeks later. Looking over at the empty spot next to him, he frowned and pulled the covers closer to him as he sat up.

Did the cabin always feel this cold?

That morning the coffee had made Dale’s lips rare and red. If he was quiet and breathed slowly, he could nearly feel them on his own, hot and bitter and teasing. He put his head in his hands and sighed.

A cup of coffee was a far cry from what he really wanted but it would have to do. He'd have to make it himself too.

No coffee, no cuddles, no Coop.

Although, no Coop also meant, no one would tell him not to sleep in for 10 more minutes. An accusatory whine came up from the floor, as he began to lean back into his pillow.

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming,” He yawned and made his way out to the living room, dogs at his feet.

No Coop apparently also meant no sunshine either. It was almost as if he took it with him. They’d get a day or two of brooding weather, then the sky would open up and they’d have a downpour. Every time he figured it was done, there was more. It wasn’t as though they weren’t familiar, but something about it seemed excessive. The only thing different was Coop.

Harry appreciated the metaphor but his head wouldn’t mind some barometric stability. It felt like he had narrowly missed a headache everyday this week, and generally he felt more hazy than he’d like. Today was no exception but he was hoping coffee would set things right. It was no substitute for Dale’s presence, but it didn’t hurt.

The coffee pot beat some life into the house as a still pjammaed Harry shuffled around the kitchen feeding the dogs and setting up some toast for himself.

 

**Monday, October 16th 1989, 7:35am - A phone call**

Harry knew Dale would call every morning if he could but he also knew these cases were as unpredictable as the weather. Even so, he smiled to himself over his coffee when the phone rang.

“Lo, Sheriff Truman speaking?”

“Morning Sheriff...”

“Hey!” Harry was a little surprised by his voice, still crumpled from sleep especially compared to Dale’s smooth, cheery tones. He moved the phone away from him to clear his throat out of earshot from Dale. “How you doin Darlin’?”

“Just fine, missing you...and our coffee pot, and our dogs, and the town, but otherwise Harry, I’m well.”

Harry nodded sleepily but remembering Dale couldn’t see him, he doubled down on an enthusiastic, “Good! Good,” and then regretted it, clearing his throat again with a little more force. It didn’t seem to want to stick.

“Harry, are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh Yeah I’m fine I’m just a little,” he couldn’t put his finger on it. He was tired, that was a given. Dale leaving town generally took the wind out of his sails, but he felt a little more worn out than expected, having had a pretty uneventful night’s sleep. The word weak kept coming to mind, but he probably just needed to eat, and wouldn’t bother Dale with it regardless. “Well I’m having a little trouble getting started, that’s all. It’s all this rain I think, and more storms on the way.”

“Station’s been busy too. Everyone drives too fast. Half the year is rain,” he said with an agitated disbelief that Dale found more amusing than he’d admit, “you’d think people would know to slow down when it gets like that. It’s not even out of towners. I don’t know what people are thinking sometimes on those turns. Anyway, I just need some coffee in me.”

“Coffee? Harry it’s 7:30.”

“Yeah, I’m a little behind.” He still couldn’t shake the gravel out of his voice, so he sighed and let Coop take the reigns a bit, “How’s the coffee out there? Haven’t heard much about it all week.”

“Harry, like I said, I miss our coffee pot. Still,” Dale lowered his voice to the tone that he knew made Harry’s head swim and heart race, “I think I miss the company more.”

The words were soft and deep like velvet sheets. More than anything Harry wanted to wrap himself up in them and go back to bed, although preferably Dale would be waiting there for him. The rain made him want to curl into Dale’s neck and let him play with his hair. He wouldn’t even have to ask. A shiver ran through him at the thought of it. He swallowed hard and put it out of his mind.

“I miss you too Dale. ...I wish you were here,” he whispered.

“Oh. Harry, I meant the dogs.” Dale said with a teasing deadpan.

“So, should I mail the rest of your stuff to Diane or Albert?”

 A laugh hummed through the phone and hit Harry square in the chest. He was always surprised that it was these little things he missed.

“No need. I'll be home soon enough. Hopefully no later than Sunday. This one’s not too elaborate, I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Won’t or can’t?” He asked half playful, half serious. If Coop was going to be gone so long, the least he could do was give him some details.

“Well, I guess you’ll find out. I’m taking you out to dinner as soon as I get home.”

“I don’t know Coop, I might be busy that night.” Harry said coyly, still reveling in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. The idea of his boyfriend wanting to take him anywhere brought some warmth to his cheeks even if Coop wasn’t there to see it.

Dale chuckled, “Harry, if it turns out your free, we’ll go wherever you like.”

“Aw, Coop….that sounds….that’s...I...I’m sorry I…” Harry’s breath hitched slightly as he tried to blink away a tickle in the back of his throat. It wasn’t working.

“Harry?”

 The dogs jumped as Harry moved the phone away from his mouth and sneezed into his shoulder. He shook his head and rubbed at his sinuses.

“Pardon me, sorry. Snuck up on me I guess.” He sniffled, a little surprised.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks, um, dinner right? Dinner sounds real nice Coop.”

“Good. I look forward to it then. Harry, I had better get on with my day.”

“Yeah, me too I suppose,” Harry said but didn’t quite mean it. He could stay on the phone with Coop another hour or two as much as he was missing him.

“Harry?”

“Yeah Coop?”

“I love you.” Dale said with a confident enthusiasm that peppered most of his speech, but he always added a little extra for Harry.

The words warmed Harry all over and his whole body relaxed, “Well, I love you too. You stay safe out there ok?”

“I will. You too! I hear there are some dangerous characters out on those roads.”

Harry chuckled and put the phone on the receiver and let the emptiness of the house wash over him with the rain.

 

**Monday, October 16th 1989 - 8:00am - Roll Call and Assignments**

The station was spread thin. Between the road closings, detours, and regular business, Harry had his boys scrambling.

“Now, we’re not too bad off just yet but let's try to stay ahead of this thing alright?”

There were a few faces missing that morning. Rubbing at his throat, Harry wondered if someone was going around as he was beginning to feel a bit thin himself.

“And for the love of God,” he continued with an amused exasperation. “Could ya please, use your heads if you come across flooding? Alright? Best case scenario, we get an embarrassing story in the Post about one of you goofballs getting stuck out there.”

A dull chuckle went about the room.

“My bet’s on Ryerson!” Someone called out.

“I've always wanted a story written about me,” Ryerson shrugged.

No one was thrilled about patrolling in the rain but Harry was pleased with the energy in the room, on a Monday no less.

“Well, I could write you up if that helps,” Harry interjected casually and another wave mild laughter bubbled up from the group.

“In all seriousness, I don't wanna even think about worst case scenario. Y’all know flash flooding can get dangerous real quick. So let's be careful ok? Especially you Ryerson.”

There was a prickle in the back of his throat, he'd been talking more than he planned.

With a muffled cough, he dismissed the group, “Alright, that's it. Get on out of here and stay dry.”

Chatter and footsteps filled the room as Harry watched the group file out. A sleepy satisfaction settled into him and he took a moment to appreciate his position before heading into his office to start the day.

 

**Monday, October 16th 1989 - 11:00am - Patrol & Emergency Response (sorta)**

The road hissed beneath the wheels of his truck rhythmically. An oily black snake, it was nearly beautiful and potentially deadly when it was like this. Harry didn't like to think about it, but he was finding it hard to think about anything productive all together.

The second cup of coffee was turning out to be as useless as the first. Like his windshield wipers, it would only make the slightest difference in clarity before a smudged haze to speckle back over his head.

There was an nagging impatience to his body, and as a man who valued etiquette, he couldn’t help but feel that this was rude. 

The car shuddered off as he pulled to the side of Manning Road.

“What’s going on?” he called out to Officer Keller, as he got out of his car.

“Well Har, as you can see,” Keller gestured to the car in the middle of a small pond where the road used to be with at least two feet of water at its stomach, “Bill’s got himself in a bit of a pickle.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Bill! You alright?” He yelled out to the grumpy red faced man in the car. There was an immediate regret when he heard how hoarse he was getting. Pulling his coat closer against the wind needling its way through the teeth of his jacket zipper, he also regretted forgetting his scarf today.

“Dammit Harry! What’s it look like?”

“I’m gonna wanna hear the thought process behind this one Bill!” He yelled over again.

“Screw you Harry! I thought I could make it. Can you just do your job and get me outta here?”

“Not with that attitude Bill!” He cleared his throat and turned to Keller, “Anyone call Paul and the boys yet?”

“Not yet, we were hoping to coax the car out, push it maybe, but nothing doing.”

“Yeah, flooded out I bet. Bad business but Bill really oughta know better. Alright, let’s have Paul send someone up and-” He snapped his head to the side and tried to stifle a sneeze. “Sorry, excuse me.”    

“Bless ya Harry,”

“Thanks,” he felt a blush rise in his cheeks. Was it going to be like this all day?

“Have Lucy see when Paul can send somebody, bet he’s swamped. We’re going to have to set something up over on,” he sighed and tried to think over the sound of his sniffles and the rain tapping over and over on his hat. “Richardson, I think. Keep cars from piling up. I’m gonna get in touch with someone at Public Works, make sure, and we’ll get someone else out here with ya. Just hang tight, and make sure no one else comes out this way. You stay dry best you can alright?”

“You got it Harry,” Keller tipped his own hat and the rain trickled off the front in a stream.

“Bill! We’re gonna get you towed out as soon as we can alright?”

“Yeah? When? And where are you going?”

“Gonna have your wife send over some swim trunks for ya!” Harry yelled over his shoulder as he settled back into his car and turned up the heat.

 

**Monday, October 16th 1989 - 3:00pm - Regroup with Hawk: Coffee**

By his third, mostly ornamental, cup of coffee, Harry was flagging. He didn't recall swallowing a handful of burrs but his throat was feeling prickly enough that even breathing seemed to disturb it and the roof of his mouth had an intermittent itch. What the coffee didn't provide in wakefulness, it made up for in warmth and he still drank it down gratefully between sniffles.

When Hawk found him, his face was buried in a tissue which, Harry thought, could also be taking their jobs more seriously. If he had to be at work, so did they.

“Hey Hawk, tell me you have some good news.”

“Well, I don't know if you've heard, but word on the street is,” Hawk looked over his shoulder and around hall to make sure no one was listening, and then leaned in closer to Harry, “it's raining.”

“You're kidding.”

“Nope but you didn't hear it from me.” He winked.

“I'll keep it under my hat. Anything else?”

“Lots of closings!” Hawk said over his shoulder as he broke away from Harry to get some coffee.

“Miller, Redding, Elmwood, all closed! Heard Bill Harrington was stuck over on Manning for a bit. What a jackass, if water got into that engine, forget it.”

“Yeah, Ed’s gonna have a field day. I heard they had a landslide over in Snohomish.”

“Bad?”

“No one's hurt but it's not great.” His voice thinned out and he turned his head away from Hawk to cough, “Sorry. Gotta give Sal a call, see how it's going.”

“I'm starting to worry we’re next,” Harry continued glumly, rubbing at his throat.

“Well we’re a lot better off than last time, maybe two years ago? That was a mess.”

“Don't remind me, between everything with Andrew and-” he cleared his throat, “and that rain and, god knows what el-” he paused as his eyes fluttered and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry I-I thought…”

“You ok?”

Harry nodded and muffled a sneeze into his napkin.

“Scuse me. Don't know what's gotten into me today.”

“I wasn't gonna say anything, but ya don't sound great.”

“But I'm feeling fantastic.” Harry smiled weakly and then sighed, “A cold’s all I need right now.”

“Can't be helped,” Hawk shrugged. “Maybe you oughta head home? Get some rest.”

“Well, considering I gotta take, Miller, Redding, and Elmwood to get there, I may as well stay here, if I don't wanna end up like Bill.”

Leaning his head back against the wall, he closed his eyes and thought about Dale.

“A catnap in your office chair.”

The way he was feeling, that _did_ sound about as good as Christmas, but the best present would be Coop.

“Might close my eyes a minute in my office, see if I can't regroup. Maybe I've just got a chill or something from the rain.” He tried to subdue another set of coughs.

“Yeah, maybe,” Hawk looked at him skeptically.

“You stay warm ok? I don't need some sorta epidemic on top of everything else.”

“Yeah I'll do that. But y'know what might work better Patient Zero?” Hawk put a hand on Harry's shoulder, “If you went home.”

“Thanks Hawk.”

 

**Monday, October 16th 1989 - 6:00pm - Chores**

To Do:

  * Feed/walk dogs
  * Tend chickens
  * Hot shower
  * Cook Dinner?
  * General store - cough drops, tissues, scotch tape, orange juice, marshmallows
  * Station: Paperwork  



 

**Monday, October 16th 1989 - 8:00pm - RR for Takeout**

Even after a shower and some quick cuddles with the dogs, the day had left Harry chilled. The Double R would have to do for dinner, he had some loose ends to take care of at the station, and besides, cooking wasn’t the same without Coop.

The diner was warm and bright against the gloom of the road. Inviting as it was, Harry felt conspicuous and intruding, the way he was sniffling.

“What can I get ya Harry?” Norma came over to him with a smirk that flickered both amusement and sympathy. He wouldn't have taken it from anyone else and he allowed himself to let his guard down a little.

“Sorry Norma,” He managed between coughs, “A better immune system maybe?”

“So you're the one causing all that racket. You ok?”

“Little under the weather. Wish that wasn't so literal right now.”

“Mm, that rain can't be helping.”

“You're telling me.”

“I hear they had some bad flooding over in Redmond.”

“Yeah they tend to. We should be ok, but I'd feel better about it if the rain let up.” He turned his head away and tried to stifle a cough with his fist.

“Here,” Norma pushed a mug of water and a tea bag toward him, “on the house.”

“You don't have to do that Norma.”

“It’s just tea Harry.”

“I just don't like people thinking I'm getting favors.”

“Oh it's not a favor. You're coughing up a lung in my establishment. Maybe you could, I don't know,” She crinkled her nose, “quiet down?”

“Didn't mean to cause a disturbance,” he chuckled and let the mug warm his hands, Thank you.”

“Now what’ll you have?”

“A turkey club if you don't mind.”

“Not at all. You don't want some soup?”

“Nah, I just need something I can have while wrapping up some paper work, then it's right to bed if the town lets me.”

“Harry!” A came a overtly jovial voice from across the diner.

Norma and Harry exchanged a look.

“Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. I'll get that sandwich for ya.”

“Thanks Norma.”

“Evening Glenn.” She said to the short man who was arranging themselves next to Harry at the counter.

“Evening Norma!”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Just a slice of gooseberry if you please.”

Norma made a note and handed it off to Shelly as she continued on to the kitchen.

“Now Harry, I’m having a bit of a problem with my neighbor.”

“Muriel?”

“Yup that’s the one.”

“What’s the problem Glenn?” He asked, taking a sip of tea to hide his exasperation.

As a rule, he tried not to play favorites but, he liked Muriel. When they were kids, he and his brother would rake her leaves or shovel her walk. In return, she'd give them candies or cocoa and a couple bucks. It was the sort of thing Harry couldn't forget, not to mention, the antique rifle she had given him for his college graduation. That being said, he had a soft spot for her.

“Well you know she’s got that old hound dog. At all hours, Harry! That hellhound is just carrying on, and making a fuss and scaring my poor chickens. Now you have chickens, you know how easily they get spooked. And they’re a-crying and fussing and it’s too much. Now I have a right mind....”

Shelly placed a decedent helping of pie in front of Glenn.

“Why thank you Honey.”

She gave him a vacant smile, “Anything else I can get for you?”

“No, not just now, thank you kindly. So, Harry, you see my dilemma.”

“Glenn, let’s just calm down. Now you know Bo’s getting up there and Muriel’s not so young herself, I’m sure she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“I just want you to go over there and give her a talking to. Some kind of cease and desist, some kinda...noise pollution.”

Harry chuckled, “Glenn..have _you_ tried talking to her?”

“No I certainly have not. We don’t quite see eye to eye.”

“Alright. Look, you’d have to come down to the station and file a proper complaint, but lemme tell ya, that’s the sorta thing that can really put a strain on relations. Now, I’m not gonna lie, we’re a little,” Harry sighed and rubbed at his throat, “over extended right now, with the weather being what it is, so I really would rather not. Honestly though, you should go talk to her, she probably doesn’t know it’s such a big problem.”

“Harry…”

“Glenn...c’mon. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. Bo’s as sweet as that pie you’re eating. I’m sure between the two of you, you can figure something out. And if ya can’t, come down to the station and we’ll….I don’t even know what.”

“Yknow what Harry, when your father was-”

“What’s that Glenn?” Harry’s voice raised unintentionally and a few people looked up from their meals.

“Nothing I suppose.” Glenn looked down at his pie.

Norma placed a bag in front of Harry with a wry look and a raised eyebrow. The heat rose in his cheeks, he hadn't meant to get worked up.

“Well alright then,” He worked some bills out of his wallet and grabbed the bag. “You have a good night now, take it easy on those roads.”

The warmth of the diner rolled off him like a mist as he trudged out the door.

Just above the patter of the rain, he thought heard Glenn say, “I tell ya Norma, the whole town’s gone soft. In my day…”

The door swung closed before Harry could hear just how his tenure as Sheriff had left the town soft, spongy, and oversaturated with sentiment.

 

**Monday, October 16th 1989 - 8:20pm - Sheriff Station: Dinner + Paperwork**

The headache he had been avoiding for the last week had finally found him and he was having trouble keeping his mind on his work. Looking around the room, chewing his sandwich he was suddenly struck by how little the office had changed since he was a deputy. There were knick knacks that he had added or that Dale had given him from trips here and there.

Even, Frank had a left few things during his time as Sheriff, but by and large, it was a tribute to their father. The buck, the sign, some books, all his and Harry liked to keep it that way. There was a sense that visitors could feel the history around them, whether they recognized it or not.

Generally, it made him feel rooted and sure. Today though, the room felt a little stifling and he opened a window to let the night in. For all the trouble it caused the rain sounded pleasant in the quiet of the station and he pushed the paperwork aside for the moment and looked out to the woods.

 

**Monday, October 16th 1989 - 9:00pm - Outgoing phone call**

When he finished his sandwich, he gave the paperwork another look. When the vice behind his eyes became a little tighter he sighed, pushing the papers away again.

“Bet Coop called the house,” he thought and picked up the phone.

“Cooper Here.”

“Hey…”

“Harry?”

“Yeah. Didn’t think I’d catch you.”

“Sounds like you caught something else, I almost didn’t recognize you. Are you feeling well?”

“Not particularly, think I’m coming down with something. Been feeling lousy all day.”

“I’m sorry Harry. Do you-”

“Do I need anything? You’re gonna fly out from Salt Lake City with a box of tissues for me?”

“I guess not.”

‘I’m fine.”

A silence announced Dale’s displeasure with the situation.

“Coop. Coop, I’m fine. Really, it’s just the sniffles. It’ll pass. Bad timing though, I’d rather not be sick when you get home. This weekend right?”

“Yep! Sunday if I can help it.”

“...If you can help it?”

“Well, Harry you know how these things are…”

“Yeah, I...I guess I do.” The words muddied together as Harry yawned.

“Harry, I might argue that at this hour, you should be in bed, not at the station. Extra rest might mitigate some of those symptoms.”

“I know, but I've got a few things to wrap up here tonight, I’ll be alright. I promise I’ll be getting some sleep soon. Figures, I never get sick, would have to be now.”

“I wish I could be there.”

Harry sighed, “You’re worried.”

“No I- yes. Yes. If I’m being honest, I am. I’ve just never seen you sick Harry.”

“Not much to see...there’s a deer outside my window”

“Really? What’s it doing?”

“Eating maybe. Just passing through, although I think I heard it say that you shouldn't fuss.”

“...I just don’t like you being alone right now, that’s all.”

“Coop if you were here I’d just be worried about you picking up whatever bug I’ve got. It’s fine Darlin’ really.”

There was a barely audible humming of contemplation at this that Harry didn’t like. Whatever the case was, he didn’t want to be the distraction that lead Dale into trouble.

“I'm holding you to those dinner plans Agent Cooper. I should be fine by the time you get home.”

In an effort to be more reassuring, he tried to sound more energetic. This was surprisingly tiring. Even so, the sound of Dale’s lips parting into a smile was much preferred to his concerned reticence and was worth the extra fatigue.

“Well I just figured I'd ask someone else...since you sounded so busy this morning.”

“Get out of here,” Harry chuckled and felt better than he had all day.

 


	3. Tuesday, October 17th 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Must have just been a 24 hour thing."  
> Banter, Bats, and Bedrest

**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 7:00am - Incoming phone call**

“Hello, Sheriff Truman speaking.”  
“Well! Someone sounds a little better,” Coop’s voice was as rich and warm as the coffee Harry was sipping. Although, if he had to choose something to press against his lips, it wouldn't have been the mug.

“Think I'm feeling a little better. Must have just been a 24 hour thing.” His voice sounded a little off but mostly he felt back to normal, maybe a bit tired. Still, he was moving at a good clip and rounded out some chores. The rain had even let up. Now all that was left was dealing with some of the roadwork that was left over.

“Good! I'm glad to hear it. I must admit I was more than a little concerned last night.”

“Ya don't say!” Harry chuckled and took another mouthful of coffee. It was still a little rough on his throat but otherwise it felt like home, “Didn't I tell ya not to worry?”

“I suppose you did. In the future, you'll have my full trust, Harry.”

“Let's not get carried away, I could use some wrangling now and again.”

“Well I'm sure that could be arranged.”

“What...um...what did you have in mind?”

“That's classified, but maybe once I'm home I'll have to brief you on the situation.”

“I'm...more of a boxer man myself,” Harry shrugged his shoulders. Coop was always more at ease with this sort of thing, Harry generally felt out of practice.

“I don't know that it matters Harry, they won't be on very long.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair.

“Why...aren't you here again?”

“Work.”

“Right. I've heard of that. Think I'm heading out that way myself. Just might need a plane ticket and an address and some-”

“G’bye Harry.”

“Have a good day Darlin.”

 

**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 8:00am - Roll Call and Assignments**

**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 12:00pm - Patrol**

**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 1:00pm - Lunch: Coffee**

To Do-

  * Call Snohomish County
  * Call Public Works - damage control
  * Paperwork
  * Actually go to General store - cough drops, tissues, scotch tape, orange juice, marshmallows ...marshmallows, a card for Coop
  * A Nap?
  * Probably more paperwork (if I'm lucky)
  * Make Dinner



**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 3:00pm - Run to the General Store**

Revised grocery list: cough drops, tissues, scotch tape, orange juice, marshmallows, a card for Coop, NyQuil, Something non-drowsy for work, ...Green Tea? (Coop’s suggestion)

A dog sat in the driver's seat of a pick up outside the General store.

“Hiya Bo. How are the roads?” Harry stopped to scratch the old dog behind the ears.

“Harry!” A well worn voice came from behind him, “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“Evening Muriel. He’s looking good.”

“Yeah, well, he’s getting old but he’s still got his spunk. Just like me. You got a minute? I wanna run something by you.”

“If there's one thing I like about you Muriel it's your spunk. What's on your mind?”

“I’m just having an issue with my neighbor-”

“Glenn?”

“Yup, the one in the same.”

The cold was getting through his jacket and he pulled it closer to fight off a shiver.  
The scene was typical, he got stopped a lot for this problem or that one. Generally he tried to hear everyone out but it wouldn't kill people to stop by during work hours either. For Muriel though, he didn't mind, or at least he wouldn't if he felt better.

“Sorry, can we move inside? Are you on your way?”

“Oh, well, sure we can head back inside” She tossed her purchases in the car and gave Bo a kiss.

“Thanks.” He managed through some coughs.

“You alright Harry?”

“Yeah, just fighting off a cold.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It was only slightly warmer in the store and there was a dryness that was somehow more irritating than the temperature.  
“I thought I was out of the woods but I guess I...I’m….”  
He tried to stifle some sneezes into his coat but soon found himself in a fit. By the time he was done disrupting the business, he felt several eyes on him. “May as well have stayed outside” he thought, wondering how red his face was.

“Ya done?” Muriel asked, her lip quivering as she fought to hold back a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah I think so…” he muttered sheepishly. The sniffling was really undercutting his usual perceived authority but maybe Muriel would just let him get some medicine and head back to the station.

“Sounds like you caught yourself a whopper.”

“It’s...starting to feel that way. I just need some rest, but I was stopping in for some cough drops and such til I get to bed. What can I help you with? Lemme guess...is this about chickens? ”

“You got it in one Harry, you got it in one. Now, I don’t mind em so much, they’re nice. Sometimes even, Glenn will give me eggs, y’know when they’re eggs to be had. However! However. Sometimes they get into my yard, and they peck up my garden something awful. Now, I don’t mind it so much, cause you know they’re getting the critters, the real bad ones, and I don’t mind that too much. But I don’t know if you know, no of course you do, you have chickens. Is that right?”

“I sure do.”

“Alright, so you know how they can get fussy and they are carrying on at all hours of the day! It’s just too much! Now, Harry, I know I’m not a looker anymore, but I do appreciate a bit of beauty sleep here are there, so this is just not working out.”

Harry chuckled, “Muriel, by the look of you I would have guessed you were getting a solid 8 hours.”

“Aw shucks Harry,”

“Now, it’s funny, I had someone come to me with a similar problem recently, and I’m gonna tell you just what I told them. Have you tried talking to your neighbor at all?”

“Harry, the thing is, he and I don’t really see eye to eye. I don’t know if you’ve ever talked to Glenn really in depth. We just don’t get along.”

“Uhuh. Well Muriel, I hate to do it, but you oughta talk to him first. You just don’t want someone to feel like you’re going behind their back, it’s bad blood. I think you had better talk to him first, see if you can’t work something out. Then, if you can’t sort it between the two of you, y’all come on down to the station and we’ll….figure something out…Okay?”

“Alright Harry, that’s good enough for me.”

“Well, uh, good.” He took off his hat to run his hands through his hair. He was surprised it went over smoothly.

“You get yourself some rest, ya hear? You’re sounding worse by the second.”

“Thanks Muriel, think I’m feeling a little worse. You stay dry, drive safe out there alright?”

“You too Harry. Oh yknow what? Here.”

Without much thought he leaned back and caught what turned out to be a small cinnamon candy.

“Still got those soft hands. I tell ya, you boys nearly had it that year. Such a shame. Anyway, that oughta hold you over.”

The wrapper crinkled underneath his fingers and he smiled, “Thank you Muriel. You have a good night now.”

“Night.”

 

**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 6:00pm - Agenda: Dinner and a Nap**

The clouds loomed like a blue blanket over the town, but the rain had stopped for the moment. Harry was hoping to get under blankets of his own for a bit but, the dogs hadn’t had a good walk since Sunday between the rain and his newly found unease. If it was dry enough, it only seemed fair, so he hitched them up and headed out. Neither of them seemed to mind the damp air as much as Harry did just then, and he sniffled patiently as they inspected the wet plants and fence posts.

“Saw Bo just now,” he said to Bessie who shambled along closer to him, “He looks good.”  
She huffed at this and continued forward.

“Now, now. Hell, I hope to look that good when I’m that age.”

Bessie stopped to investigate a puddle.

“You look fine princess.” He chuckled and she waddled away as if she had no idea why he would say such a thing.

Occasionally something moved quickly passed the corner of his eye. Black shapes darted across the sky, as if the trees were throwing leaves into the air.

“Do birds stay out later in the country?” Dale had asked when he first moved in.

Harry looked at him confused but then saw the shapes in the near dark.

“Bats,” he said matter of factly.

“Really?”

The astonishment in Dale’s voice was never tiresome for Harry and he nodded with a smile.

“That’s incredible Harry! Bats! I would have never guessed.”

“Well, you see how- look there goes one. They’re kind of all over the place.”  
Sure enough a black figure dived into view and then zig zagged out of sight.

“Once you see it, it’s hard to miss.”

Dale shook his head as he followed the flight pattern of another bat a little further away. “Harry...I find, I am constantly amazed by the diversity of the wildlife out here. Bats.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope not. It’s remarkable.”

This night was cooler, if only because Dale wasn’t next to him. The sky speckled with black wings now and again. They really did look like birds, but there was no song.

 

**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 10:00pm - Incoming phone call**

“Sheriff Truman,” Harry answered the phone groggily. What time was it? That nap was longer than he'd planned by a mile.

“Harry, it’s Brad. There’s been a bit of a row down at the Roadhouse, figured you’d oughta know.”

“Ugh...really?”

“Yup, as soon as it dried out, seems like everyone was itchin for a fight.”

“Figures as much,”

“I’d hate to do it but…”

“No it’s fine, I’m glad you called. How much of a row? Anyone hurt?”

“Nah not yet, just a bit of over exuberance, yknow?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m familiar.” He stopped to clear his throat, “I’ll be down as soon as I can.”

 

**Tuesday, October 17th 1989 - 10:09pm - Incoming phone call**

After splashing some water on his face, he was starting to come around. He'd fallen asleep in his uniform so that would be fine for now but threw on an extra sweater and grabbed a scarf from the closet. The rain had stopped but everything seemed to be radiating a prickling chill. Even in the warmth of the cabin he couldn't stop sniffling.

The phone rang while he was pouring some coffee in a thermos for the road.

“Sheriff Truman spea-” there was enough warning to sneeze away from the phone, but the congestion in his voice was only getting worse. He was dreading talking to anyone tonight. “Ugh excuse me...Sheriff Truman speaking…”

“Harry?”

‘Coop!”

“Are you alright? You sound terrible.”

“I’m fine. I tried calling you earlier, but I guess I missed you. I’m sorry I can’t talk just now, a fight broke out at The Roadhouse, I gotta head out.”

“Can’t someone else? Harry, you sound like you should be in bed.”

“It’s fine, y’know sometimes at night you feel a little worse? I think that’s all this is...and I just woke up from a nap.”

“A nap? It's-”

“That’s probably all it is, I’m ok.”

“Harry, that’s what you said this morning-”

“Coop, I gotta go.”

“Okay. Give me a call when you get home.”

“Alright but, it might be a little late…”

“That's fine, I’d just feel better about it .”

“Okay.”

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 12:39am - Home: A little late - Outgoing Phone Call**

A muffled yawn preceded a drowsy, “Cooper here.”

“Hey Coop,” Even though Dale had insisted on his calling, his tired voice still broke Harry’s heart.

“Harry. Harry, it’s late.”

“I told you.” Harry held the phone with his shoulder to unbutton his shirt. It fell to the floor, completing a trail of clothing leading to the warmth and comfort of the bed. He figured he'd deal with in the morning. 

“Is everything alright?

‘More or less, nothing too out of the ordinary.”

The night air hadn't done him any favors. Between yelling orders and wrangling bikers, his body ached and his throat felt raw. A cough doubled him over and left him shivering. If he was trying to hide how poorly he was feeling, he wasn't doing a very good job.

“Harry…should I be worried?”

“No. No, I’m alright, scouts honor.”

“You just, you don't sound well at all.”

“I know." he conceded, pulling a blanket haphazardly around him, "I might try to sleep in a little tomorrow.”

“I don’t think you should be going to work in the first place.”

“Coop... this is going to be a lot of paperwork, besides all the fallout from this rain. I just need some sleep…”

“...Then I suppose I should let you get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Alright. Love you.”

“I love you too Harry.”

The dial tone of the phone echoed in Harry's ears a minute before he hung up. It always took him a minute to disconnect and come back to his reality without Coop. The bed bounced slightly as he let himself fall back dramatically.

"Bessie, I'm dying." He chuckled as the dog moved out of the way slightly to accommodate him. Not bothering to arrange himself in his usual sleeping position, he let his body stretch diagonally across the entirety of the bed. The dogs too, saw this as an opportunity for unconventional sleeping arrangements and soon the 3 of them were nestled among mountains of blankets and pillows, soft and warm. 


	4. Wednesday, October 18th 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawk is literally the best. Catherine, not so much.

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 7:39am - A phone call?**

Sleeping in lasted about a half an hour before the phone rang. From under a mountain of blankets Harry grabbed for the phone and dragged it back into the cavern he had made for himself.

“Coop?” His voice had settled into a burnt hoarseness that made him forget all his usual formality.

“Morning Harry! It’s Hawk.”

Harry sprung forward in embarrassment. He recognized Hawks extra enthusiasm as an attempt to ignore being mistaken for his boyfriend.

“Oh! Oh. Hawk, I’m sorry. Coop usually…he calls me around this time, just figured you were...M’sorry. I’m just a little off...I should be in soon, can you handle….”

“S’alright, figured you were getting some extra sack time. Look, normally, I wouldn’t have called but, we got a downed tree…”

“Jeez. Is everyone ok?”

“Yeah no one got hurt, but I figured you might wanna come out and take a look.”

“Where?”

“Lone Oak Way.”

“Well now. Did that one oak finally decide to go?”

“Eh it’s something else, I don’t know. I’m not good at trees Harry.”

He chuckled but it quickly turned into a wave of coughs and he groaned reflexively.

“Yknow...Harry, I can handle it, I just wanted to clue you in.”

“No, I should probably at least be there. It’s fine.” It wasn't as though Hawk hadn't seen him in a bad way before but he wasn't in the mood for pity.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, as soon as I can.”

He hung up and wondered if he had slept through Coop’s call or if he hadn't called at all yet. Either way, he had no time to talk now anyway, and resolved to call him around noon.

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 12:07pm - Around Noon (Note to self: Call Coop)**

A scarf still hung loosely around Harry’s neck. The rain was back and with it he was feeling a more persistent chill. It was enough to make him wish he had brought an extra sweater, and maybe a blanket, possibly a pillow or two, and a bed while he was at it. That may not have gone over so well with the boys; once one person gets a bed, everyone wants one. At the very least he'd hear it from Hawk.

There was no answer at Dale’s hotel room. It wasn't a surprise, just a disappointment.

“Just hearing Coop’s voice might have been nice,” he thought as he rubbed at his nose with another tissue.

It was starting to look a little pink around the edges but at the rate he was going he was worried it'd be as ruddy as a radish by the time the day was over. A sigh shuddered out of his throat and he let his head rest gently on the cool of his desk.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he growled without lifting his head. If it was anyone in a professional capacity Lucy would have told him, hopefully.

“How ya holding up?” Hawk asked him with less humor in his voice than Harry expected, God bless’em.

Without lifting his head, Harry gave him a thumbs up.

“That good huh? I can hear ya carrying on from down the hall.”

“Oh no, really?” Now he straightened up to see if Hawk was joking. From what he could tell it was somewhere in between.

“Well that's just great,” He muttered and leaned back to look at the ceiling in hopes it would jostle his sinuses a bit. Nothing seemed to be able to clear his head. The pills he took worked for an hour or two, instead of the purported four and then gave up, leaving Harry to his own devices until he could take them again. His ears might have been giving up too. The town was underwater and he felt like he was right there with it.

“What's going on Hawk?” He asked closing his eyes.

“You're not gonna like it…”

Harry slumped his head forward to look at him. “What now?”

“It’s Catherine.”

After a fairly impressive imitation of his dogs whining, he let head fall back on the desk.

Hawk smirked at the theatrics and pressed forward, “She thinks she heard, ‘a prowler.’”

Harry coughed weakly. He was hoping to stay indoors today, ideally quarantined in his office. Heading out in the rain to where he would spend evenings with a woman he loved, who turned out to be a murderer, was much less than ideal.

“Ok...can you send-”

“You know she'll only deal with you Harry,”

They had been getting calls like this since Pete died. As much as he resented Catherine, for so many things, he did love Pete and he felt obligated to him keep an eye on her, heaven help him.

Besides it was his job. A job she didn't make easier by insisting Harry was the only one she trusted.

“But I'm sick Hawk,” He whined in a rare moment of indulgence, “Didja tell her I'm sick?”

“Harry she said, and I quote, ‘Tell Harry if he's going to send anyone else, he may as well save himself the trouble and wait to clean up my homicide at the hands of this robber.’”

“It's probably just a raccoon.”

“Who could also be a robber,” Hawk smirked.

“Yeah. You're right.” Harry sighed and tried to rub the haze from his head as he stood up, “Let's...head out.”

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 12:27pm - Blue Pine Lodge**

The rain had tapered into a persistent mist, which Harry was finding somehow worse. Blue Pine Lodge looked as much as it always did, Catherine managed to keep up appearances despite being the only resident. There was nothing she could do however, for the sensation of gloom the lodge had now, as though it was warning passers by of the years of treachery that it had been witness to.

Hawk drove them up and Harry was grateful that he didn't have to pretend to be feeling any better than he did or pay attention to the roads.

“Hawk why don't you go round back?” He coughed as they got out of the car, “I'll head around the side.”

Hawk nodded and quietly went off to investigate. As far as Harry could see, there was nothing but rain on his end. Hawk moved back into view and shook his head.

“That's what I figured,” Harry grumbled as they regrouped. “Why don't you head back in the truck? Should only be a minute.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I gotta talk to her.”

Hawk eyed Harry up for a moment and despite his better judgement, walked toward the car.

After a minute of fumbling through his pockets, Harry let his head roll back in frustration. How didn't he have tissues right now? Between the rain and the chill in the air, he was sniffling with an annoying consistency that wasn't going to cut it soon.

Reluctantly, he cleared his throat and knocked at the door.

“Good afternoon, Catherine.” He tipped his hat.

“Sheriff Truman, you sound like a drowned cat. Come in.”

“I probably shouldn't, I've got a touch of something, wouldn't want you to catch it.”

Catherine pursed her lips but moved out of the porch slightly to speak with him.

“Everything checks out, maybe something got knocked over in the rain, but it doesn't look like there's been any disturbance.”

“Well, that's a relief.”

“I bet,” Harry said sincerely and then tried to clear his throat again to get a foothold of authority. “Look, Catherine, I know it must be hard these days with the Lodge being a little more...empty than you're used to. I can't imagine.”

Catherine shifted her weight on her hips incredulously as a smile crept into the corners of her mouth. Harry ignored this.

“And I will send someone out here every time, I can guarantee that but I can't promise it's always gonna be me.”

She raised her eyebrows and let a full smile fill her lips.

“Now I know it doesn't seem it but, the station can get pretty busy from time to time and-”

“Good heavens Harry, are you quite finished?”

“I was….in the middle of a sentence.”

“Right, well, I know your men mean well but I will not have just anyone rummaging through my things and on my property. Now more than ever my privacy is very important to me.”

“I understand that but-”

“I don't think you do, or we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

Harry took a deep breath, which wasn't easy given his condition, and tried to find a tone of civility.

“No one gets special treatment Catherine. Not you, not Benjamin Horne, not anybody in town. We're spread thin enough as it is and I can't be your personal security guard, I'm sorry.”

“Oh I do wish you would have come in so I wouldn't have to say this in front of your man there,” she gestured to the truck which was a good distance out of earshot.

“The thing of it is Harry, I know, and you know, that the next time I call, it will be you at my door. I know this in the same way that Josie- God rest her soul- knew exactly how to spin you around her little finger.”

“Catherine-” he started with a warning timbre in his voice but she continued.

“You’re a soft touch Harry Truman, and you’re all too eager. You’ve been that way since you were a boy. It’s not your fault Harry, it’s not your fault. I respect you, but let’s call a spade a spade; you may be a Truman, but everyone knows, you have more of your mother’s disposition in you than might be useful.”

Josie was par for the course but this took him by surprise and he jerked back a bit, as though she had slapped him.  
All at once he felt cold from head to toe.

“Harry, it’s not an insult. She’s a wonderful woman, an absolute delight. The fact of the matter is, if Frank were still in town, we all know who would be Sheriff today.”

He blinked at her, chest heaving as the heat started to come back into his face.

“Catherine, if that’s how you feel about it, then I suppose...it doesn’t really matter who comes out to your door next time, now does it?” He said quietly and then tipped his hat again.

Catherine quirked her head to the side but said nothing.

“You have a good evening.”

“Feel better...Sheriff Truman.” She called after him.

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 12:51pm - Back on the beat**

Hawk could see Harry lumbering toward the truck with a headlong frustration that he was familiar with. The passenger side door was less familiar with it as Harry slammed it closed and settled into the seat.

“Whoa. That bad?”  
Harry just laughed bitterly and laid his head back.  
“I knew I shoulda gone with you.”  
“She’s in rare form today.”  
“Yeah she’s something else, I know how she gets. You shouldn’t stand for it Harry.”  
“I shouldn’t stand-Hawk! I’m handling things the best way I know how!” He snapped.

Hawk was quiet for a minute and then started the car. The silence was a warning, any other time Hawk would let him have it.

“Dammit, I’m sorry. That wasn't fair. I’m just letting her get to me,” He let his head rest against the cool window.  
“This whole day is getting to me.”

“Yeah? Are you sure it’s not just, the last few weeks getting to you?”

“...He’ll be back Sunday. Maybe.”  
“Maybe? Harry, when are the two of you gonna figure this out?”  
“There’s…there’s nothing to figure. Work is work. He’s gotta work. I’ve gotta work, that’s it.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose trying to get some relief.  
“Yeah? Well, used to be that dating someone meant, seeing ‘em occasionally.”  
“Aw Hawk it’s not….it’s not that ba-” he buckled into his jacket with set of forceful sneezes.

“Ohhh,” Harry winced and instinctively his hand went to his throat, which did not appreciate the disruption.

“Excuse me. It’s...it's not that bad,” he managed to whisper.

“Yeah, it seems just fine,” Hawk said flatly, “Glovebox.”  
“What?”  
“Tissues in the glovebox.”  
“Oh thank god.”  
A stack of diner napkins greeted Harry, who grabbed a handful and settled back into his seat.

“Harry?”  
“Yeah Hawk?”  
“I think you oughta call it.”  
“I’m alright…” Harry was hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in his voice from shivering.  
“Uh huh, well you could have at least warned me that the first two rows would get wet.”  
“Gross Hawk,” He muttered, swiping a napkin under his nose, “Who am I kidding? I'm disgusting right now.”

“Well you said it, not me. What I'm sayin is, you've had it and we had better get you to bed.”  
“We?”  
“Uhh y’know, like a royal we. Like a we of the heart. We, like, you and me will get you to your door, and I will trust that you can make it the rest of the way.”  
“Boy, the star treatment.”  
“Only the best. You know me Harry, happy to help.”  
“Yeah, yeah, a real paragon of human kindness. Don’t worry about it Hawk. I can manage, just need some coffee back at the station. We oughta swing over by Manning before we head back, see how it’s holding up.”

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 12:40pm - Over by Manning Road.**

The road had begun to pool back up, but not as badly as earlier in the week. As he got out of the truck, the ground seemed to shift under Harry’s feet and he stumbled forward. The door steadied him as the world righted itself.  
“Harry! You alright?” Hawk said with more alarm than Harry felt warranted.  
With one hand on the door and the other on his head, Harry nodded as emphatically as he could.

“Back in the car Truman, I’ll check this out.”  
Harry didn’t argue and slumped back into the passenger seat and shut the door. The window felt better than he would have guessed against his head as he waited for Hawk. It was embarrassing - he shouldn’t be taking this so hard, but Hawk was right, he’d had it.

The door slammed and rocked Harry forward slightly.

“It’s not terrible but we should...Harry?”  
Harry barely heard the car start as Hawk said something to Lucy over the radio.

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 1:10pm - Not the Sheriff’s Station**

“Harry. Harry!”  
“Wha-what?”  
“We’re here.”  
“Ohh...oh I fell asleep? Hawk I’m sorry. God. I’m really knocking it out of the park.” He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up.  
“You were snoring too. The whole nine. Like driving through the mill.”  
“Sorry...I….Hawk, this is not the station.”  
“It’s not? Aw Harry, I don’t believe this, third time this week. Yknow, between the backroads and the detours, I must have got all turned around. Well! What can ya do? I guess your home.”

“...Hawk, I’ve got things to take care of.”

“Come off it Harry.”

“Fine. Alright-wait my car. Hawk, my car.”

“Gimme your keys. I’ll have someone bring it by later. Maybe that’ll keep you from running back to the station and stopping to save every kitten stuck in a tree. Now out ya go, come on.”

Hawk gets out too and orbits Harry in a way he knows he’s watching his steps, ready to extend a hand if it’s needed. A quick flip through Harry’s keys and soon they’re in his living room.

“Hey, I thought you weren’t coming in.”

“Yeah, yeah, move it.”

“That’s awful nice of you Hawk, look at that, a real change of heart.” Harry said flopping down on the couch and closing his eyes. The dogs shuffle out to investigate the additional person in their home and check out the usual suspects.

“Yeah well, figure I can’t be the one who let Twin Peaks’ favorite son die on their watch.” Hawk said scratching Barkley’s ears.

“Yeah? Well he’s safe and sound out West. You’re in the clear.” Harry mumbled opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling wearily.

“C’mon Harry.”

“You know it’s true.”

“All I know is, you need to get out of those wet clothes and into something less… Sheriffy. Ah Jeez, I guess I’ll make ya some tea.” He said already heading into the kitchen.

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah don’t tell anybody about this. Get going.”

“A real heart of gold Hawk.”

“Stop.”

“A man among men.”

“Don’t.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they tell me, but do I listen?”

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 1:30pm - Tea & Less "Sheriffy" Clothes**

Harry put on one of Coop’s FBI t-shirts and a pair of flannel pants and came back into the living room where Hawk was already drinking tea.

He smirked but managed not to comment on Harry's attire.

“I'm gonna hear about this next week,” Harry thought and arranged himself on the couch with a blanket he'd brought from the bedroom.

“You're laying it on real thick.” Hawk said handing him his tea.

There was honey in it. Harry felt his body relax and loosen as it welcomed the sweetness and warmth. He hummed appreciatively.

“I can't wait to tell everyone how your heart grew three sizes today.”

“How would you like hot tea in your lap Truman?”

“Least it’d be warm.”

Hawk frowned at this, “You getting chills?”

“Think so, a little bit.”

“Might be the flu, Har.”

It had occurred to him earlier but he was really hoping it was just the weather. In a moment of inspiration from Coop, he was trying to stay positive, will it away, but it wasn't working. All that mind over matter business wasn't his strong suit but he was hoping some of it had rubbed off.

“Great.” He said, drawing the blanket a little closer, “That's just what I need right now.”

Hawk stood up to wash his cup and his hands.

“You need anything before I go?”

Harry shook his head.

“Tryna think if there’s anything you should know. I’m worried about these roads. I don’t need an emergency. Oh, The Roadhouse. I didn’t finish that paperwork, but I’d hate for you to have to go through my desk right now. I’ll get to it tomorrow-”

“I don’t want to see you anywhere near the station tomorrow. Nowhere near it, ya hear me?”

Harry rubbed his chin like he was considering it.

“Nowhere near the station Harry. I mean it. I’ll get Lucy after you, you don’t want that.”

“No I sure don’t. Fine, I guess I’ll just take it easy tomorrow, but the minute something happens, you call me.”

“You’re not gonna hear from me unless the station’s on fire. Oh yeah, I’ll leave the keys in the mailbox if I can’t get to ya. The boys are probably gonna want to send something.”

“You tell those boys all I need is for them to get back to work. I don’t need em to look after me.”

“Yeah? Well, someone’s gotta Harry.”

“I guess...I don’t know...I do alright.”

“Not today. Doesn’t hurt to have some extra help…”

“....He’ll be back Sunday.”

“Uh huh. I’m tellin ya, you two need to talk.”

“Bye Hawk.” He said with an exaggerated exasperation.

“See ya Harry.’

 

**Wednesday, October 18th 1989 - 8:30pm - An empty house**

The electricity of the house when it was filled with food and people never failed to make Harry feel warm. They had grown up that way. As busy as his father was, he made time for all three of them and whoever else was in their house at the time.  
It was something he strived for in his life but had found less achievable, until recently. Now, the house crinkled like the lingering static of a TV once you turned it off and soon even that was gone.

A book he had been chipping away at rested on the side table. “Don't let me fall asleep out here,” He said to the dogs who had both sidled up to him on the couch.

A yellow leaf drifted to the floor from the pages and threatened to slip under the couch. Barkley hopped down to investigate.

“Don't you dare,” Harry tumbled out of his blanket and snatched the leaf before Barkley could eat it. “There are plenty of leaves outside buddy, not this one.”  
The was an unmistakable look of frustration on the dog’s face as he trotted away.

Rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand, Harry settled back on the couch and turned the leaf over in the light. It had a fleeting hint of green by the veins. Left to its own devices it would have turned brown and curled into itself, barely recognizable to the tree. Here though, it was preserved in a moment of beautiful decay. Harry smiled to himself in a moment of poetic lucidity that he wished Dale had been here for. He liked to remind him he was more than just a pretty face.

He ran his hand over his chin and sighed. He didn't believe either thing, but for some reason Dale did. Even if it was a lie, it was nice to hear.

Placing the leaf back in his book, he settled back into his nest and let the words take his mind off the quiet of the house.

 

**Wednesday? Thursday? October 18-19th 1989 - ? pm - Couch**

The landscape of the living room slowly came into view as Harry shot up from the couch. Something about Dale? Something about the book? Was Dale hurt? Where was he? The visions ran together and made his heart constrict in his aching chest.

Bessie whined and settled into the spot where Harry had been. He was fine, at least, in the way where, nothing had actually changed. He was still sick, Dale wasn't home. Whether or not Dale was ok, he didn't know. A groan echoed out into the dark. The bedroom was inexplicably far and he felt too heavy and unnatural to consider what moving would involve. Still, Coop would probably rather he went to bed. Gathering the blanket in his arms he took a deep breath. A few coughs rattled out into the night and he held the blanket tighter to his chest and laid back down on his side. Dale would be disappointed and his back would be sore, but the fog in the room wouldn't lift. It settled in his lungs and clouded his dreams. In every one Dale was as intangible as air.


	5. Thursday, October 19th 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy "Hawk" Hill is the best - Round Two.  
> Harry feels worse - Round Three.  
> Friendship and sad times.

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - 7:30am - A phone call - Coop**

In the morning, Harry woke up shivering with all the blankets bunched in his arms.  
As expected, he was sore but his head felt worse. The dogs took issue with his being in the living room at this time of day and not offering them any sort of breakfast. There was whining, nuzzling, and some murmurings from Barkley who was still miffed from the night before.

Hoping to build up some momentum, Harry let his body slide off the couch. The floor was somehow inviting and he laid there until the phone rang. Reaching for it with as little effort as possible, he knocked over the book and a few errant bills to the ground with him.

“Darn it,” he muttered, “Hello?”

“It's me.” Coop answered grimly at the sound of Harry’s voice.

“Good. I didn't wanna talk to anyone else,” Harry said weakly.

“How are you?”

“Not…..great…um, fell asleep on the couch.”

“I was worried you might. How’s your back?”

“That's mostly ok, but got a headache...behind my eyes sorta, you know what I mean?”

“Mhmm, mhmm. Harry you know what might help? Take a whole clove of garlic and place it back behind your molars, bite down-”

“No.”

“Now, it might burn a little but that's when you know you're done.”

“Nu-uh. What else ya got?”

“Gargle with hot vinegar and salt.”

“Darling, my stomach's been pretty sturdy so far, I'd like to keep it that way. Next.”

“Lemon…water?”

“Bingo. That I can do.”

“You're difficult.”

“I'm….a person, Dale. A very regular person, who doesn't wanna boil some vinegar at 7 in the morning.”

“I promise you, it helps.”

“Maybe next time Sweetheart. I did buy that green tea you mentioned.”

“Is it helping?”

Harry was skeptical, but just the fact that it was warm and from Dale was enough.

“Hard to say. I think so.”

“I am very happy to hear that Harry.

“Well, I'm happy to hear you,” He said and then groaned as he tried to get up from the floor.”

“You're not going in today are you?”

“No. Hawk’d kill me, but I'm not sure I could manage if I wanted to.”

“Harry…”

“I'm feeding the dogs and going right back to bed….don't worry.”

Over the line, Harry could hear Dale doing just that.

“...How are you? You sleeping ok? You sound a little tired yourself.”

“The bed’s lumpy,” Dale said with an exasperated childishness. Harry could tell the time away was wearing on him too.

“I'm sorry sweetheart,” Harry crooned but, if he sounded as abrasive to Coop as it did to him, he couldn't imagine it was comforting.

“It's fine. I'm sure it's just cause you're not next to me.

“Coop, the way I carry on, I'd think you'd sleep better when you're away.”

“I will say it's a bit...quieter.”

“You miss it,” Harry laughed and muffled a few coughs. Hearing Coop, nearly made him forget how bad he was feeling.

“I do miss you but, if somehow you had stopped snoring by the time I came back, I wouldn't be upset.”

“No such luck. You may want to get some ear plugs, as stuffed up as I am just now.”

“That's alright Harry, if that's the price I have to pay for you next to me-” Dale stopped as Harry broke into another set of coughs.

“Harry, go lay back down. I have to get on anyway. I want you in bed.”

“Okay.” He murmured.

“Feel better.”

“Thank you Darlin,” he said weakly and then Dale was gone.

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - 8:15am - Back in Bed**

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - ?**  
“I gotta get up. No question about that. Gotta...get out of bed. Here we go. Ok, ok, ok. Ok. Maybe not yet. S’cold. Floor’s cold. Even with socks and slippers and it's too hot, my arms hurt. My arms...my head. Probably just, need to take something, gotta eat. What did she used to say, starve a cold, feed a fever, if I take some medicine now, maybe peanut butter and jelly. She would have brought me that, or soup, or rice, or toast with butter, or, or….oatmeal sometimes. Ice cream when Frank had his tonsils out. Still got mine. What do they do? Is it better to keep em? Albert’d know. She’d say marshmallows, made your throat feel better. She didn't know why. I thought it was just a treat, spoonful of sugar. Maybe Albert would know that too.  
Remember to ask Coop to ask Albert.  
Remember to ask Coop to come home.  
Remember to ask Coop to stay forever.  
Remember that everyone leaves.  
Remember that I can't.  
I can't get up.  
I can't get up, don't feel good. No no no. It's fine. Not so bad. Gonna sleep it off.  
Remember, you did this before.  
For years and years. No difference now.  
If I take something I could get up - what did I do with it, my throat's dry, feels bad.  
Bad bad bad. Everything feels, real bad.  
Bad and hot. Maybe something to drink. Sprite does something, Coke too right? Maybe tea. Coffee. Black, no spoonful of sugar. No moonlight, only stars.  
No better place to see em than Twin Peaks. No better place. No place like it, no place. I gotta get up. But instead some one’ll bring me something, I can eat it later if I want. Then she just sits with me a bit and we watch movies. Black and white, like the night sky. Where's Coop? Where am I...gonna find some like Coop? Does he know about the stars? Maybe there are too many. Scared him off, too many to count. That's the best part, does he know that's the best part? Black and white and then so much color, the sun rises and, and I miss you more everyday. The sun sets and you're not here. Black and white. On and off. Here and there. Here today, gone tomorrow. He'll be gone tomorrow but he'll be back Sunday. Gone again Monday. That's ok. Cause I love him. So it's ok.

It's ok.

Remember, it's ok.”

“It's…..so cold Coop, Coop I'm cold. Coop? Are you there Darlin? I'm real cold. I need you. Coop?”

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - ?- Outgoing phone call**

No answer.

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - 12:27pm - Incoming Phone Call**

A noise jolted through Harry and startled him awake. His heart booming in his head made it hard to think of what it was as his eyes darted across the room.

“Coop?” He called out into the house. The phone rang again and he shook his head.

“Right. Of course.” he thought chest heaving.

“Sheriff…Truman speaking,” He rasped breathlessly, as he tried to calm down.

“Man you sound awful.” Hawk said with a genuine disbelief.

“It’s alright...I'm alright. Just woke up.” He panted, “What’s...what's going on?”

“Sorry to wake ya, thought you'd like an update. Got all that Roadhouse paperwork squared away, a couple roads closed off with the rain coming back around, but nothing too bad, just thought you oughta know.”

“Good…” a set of coughs wheezed out of his lungs and he tried to cut the conversation short, “Great...ok…..thank you…”

“You doin alright?”

“Yeah...I’m-I’m fine…just...I’m feeling a little worse than yesterday I think….Umm...I-I-I’m…I’m having a little trouble getting up that’s all….”

“You eaten?”

“Um…I…No.”

“Aw Harry.”

“No, no, it’s fine...I’m fine, I’m just having a little trouble, it’s ok….I just gotta get up, and I’ll…sorry...it’s ok I’m alright…”

“Harry you don’t sound good…”

“Really it’s fine, once I get some food in me I’ll-”

“Stow it, I’m coming over.”

“Hawk…”

“Nope, don’t wanna hear it. I’m coming over, don’t you move ok?”

“...okay.”

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - 12:40pm - A hand? A stranger? Who’s there?**

“Jesus, you’re as hot as hell.”

“Wha-what? Hawk?” Harry recoiled from the hand over him.

“Whoa, whoa, settle down, it’s just me, Donut Dolly.”

“....What?” He started and then coughed into his chest.

“Your keys were still in the mailbox. Bet you need some water.” Hawk said and started to walk out of the room. Harry could just hear the water turn on in the kitchen over another round of coughs.

“Back in the war,” Hawk yelled to the bedroom as he fumbled through Harry's cabinets, “there used to be these ladies from the Red Cross. Came round when morale was low. They called em Donut Dolly’s.” He came back in, placed a pitcher of water next to the phone and poured Harry a glass.

“I got a real plum of a girl when I got shot in the ass. Here, drink that down. You’ve got a fever, no wonder you’re having trouble. You taken anything?”

“I'm not...not since...last night...maybe? I don't….”

“Ok, ok, hang tight. God where are they?”

“Living room? I’m not…” Harry looked around and started to unravel himself from the bed shakily.

“Whoa, ok wait,” Hawk put a hand on Harry's shoulder to have him lay back down, “It’s alright. I’ll find em.”

“Hawk you didn’t have to…”

“Of course I had to,” Hawk moved out into the living room and yelled into the bedroom again. Harry wondered if it was just to keep from letting him see how much Hawk was worried about him.

“Truman, you sound like death warmed over. You shoulda called.”

Harry frowned at this but said nothing.

“Lucy sent some soup and- hey! Found it! The guys sent some tissues and such, you should be all set.”

Hawk sat on the edge of the bed and poured some green liquid from a bottle into a cap.

“Bottom’s up, Harry.”

The medicine dropped into his stomach making it cold and nauseous.  
He grimaced and Hawk was quick to pour him another glass of water.

“Good. Food now I guess, before that knocks you out.”

“No, it’s alright. You gotta get back to the station. I can take it from-”

“Ya think I’m stupid? No way.”

“Hawk I'm-”

“What? You're “fine”? You’re burning up and dehydrated, you’re lucky I showed up when I did or Coop would be visiting you in the hospital.”

“Now who’s laying it on thick?”

“I’m serious Harry. Jesus. You shoulda called.”

“Hawk…”

“You know I’m right. You should have called.”

“I can’t do that…”

“C’mon, get off your high horse Truman. You think Dale Cooper’s the only person who cares about you in this town? Whole station’s worried.”

“Everyone's overreacting…”

“Overreacting? You can barely get yourself outta bed. Maybe, I'd be overreacting if I knocked some sense into ya but I'm starting to think that's not such a bad idea!”

“What do you want me to call and say Hawk? You want me to call and tell Lucy I need someone to come over and...and...take my temperature? Make me soup? That I can’t take care of myself and my boyfriend’s not here and I’m...I’m a mess? Is that what you want me to call and say?”

Hawk stopped pacing to look at his friend.

“It’s my station Hawk! Mine. I can’t...I can’t just...” This was as much as Harry had said all day and as loud as he had spoken all week. His body did not like it at all and it let him know as much. Between coughing and getting worked up, he was red in the face and exhausted.

Hawk sighed and sat down by Harry's legs and waited for him to finish.

“Aw Jeez Harry. If you needed anything no one would fault you for it.”

“It’s ridiculous...it’s ridiculous….I-I-I can do it, I can handle it…” Harry shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Sometimes ya can’t. You would for any of us.”

Hawk frowned as Harry's coughing sounded more chesty than before.

“Harry…”

“I-I just miss him...I need him to come home…”

“I know,” Hawk said with a firmness that somehow made Harry feel better.

“It’s stupid…”

“It happens, it happens! You just got a bad turn is all.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right.”

The two of them sat in silence for a minute. Harry felt like his embarrassment filled the room. He felt hot and swollen like his whole body was pulsing. In the quiet his breathing sounded like grated smoke.

Hawk looked at him in the eyes suddenly and softly said, “Jeez. Next time, just tell Lucy you need me to stop by. How’s that? Better?”

Harry nodded, to exhausted for much else.

“Alright then.” Hawk sighed and stood up, stretching out as he went to bring back some casualness to the room, “That Cooper’s gonna get an earful from me when he gets back”

“Not his fault.”

“I know that. Doesn't mean I can't complain about it. Lay down, I’m gonna get you that soup.”

The house soon filled with the radio. Hawk’s voice came in and out, talking to the dogs and singing along to this song and that. Pots were moved around and the fridge opened and closed. It was noisy, but Harry felt more at ease and let his eyes rest and his head fall back against the pillow.

 

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - 1:40pm - Soup and Crackers**

“Here ya big faker,” Hawk waited for Harry to sit up as he balanced a tray with a bowl of soup and a sleeve of saltines, on his lap.

There was a genuine appreciation in his hoarse voice as Harry teased, “You’re my hero, Tommy Hill.”

“All in a day’s work,” Hawk rolled his eyes, “You good?”

Harry nodded and poked at some chunks of carrot with his spoon.

“Good, cause I wasn’t planning on getting back up,” Hawk sat down on the other side of the bed with a sandwich and a slice of pie.

“I see you helped yourself.”

“Soup tax. Whaddaya wanna watch?”

Harry gave him a knowing look.

“No,” Hawk shook his head.

He looked back down at his soup disappointedly.

“C’mon, do we have to? I’m not sick yet.”

Harry smiled.

“If you start singing, I'm leaving.”

 

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - 1:55pm - A Movie: Paint Your Wagon**

Paint Your Wagon was a comforting cross section of the long list of things Harry liked.

Things Harry Truman likes (that are also in the movie, Paint Your Wagon):  
-Westerns  
-Musicals  
-Horses  
-Trees  
-Love triangles  
-Singing  
-Tall square-jawed hollywood types

Hawk did not enjoy any of these things nearly as much and Harry was beginning to worry that he would owe him a raise.

“See? You're laughing already.”

“Cause Lee Marvin cannot carry a tune.”

“Neither can you but I didn't stop ya earlier.”

“Excuse me, I sing like a bird.”

“A screech owl?”

“I'm glad this illness hasn't dulled your sense of humor.”

“I wasn't joking.”

A little soup sloshed out of Harry’s bowl as Hawk gave him a push.

“Watch it.” Harry smiled and pulled a tissue out of the box to clean the spill.

Clint Eastwood walked through the forest crooning when Hawk finally took a breath to say something but then seemed to change his mind.

It was Harry's favorite song but he put his empty plate on the nightstand and turned to him, “What?”

“Nothin.”

“What's up Hawk?”

“You don’t really believe that do ya? What you said the other day, bout Frank?”

“Oh.” Everything seemed like a blur since getting home the day before. Then he remembered, Twin Peaks’ favorite son.

The embarrassment was back.

“I dunno, sometimes...” he shrugged his shoulders, suddenly noticing everything feeling a bit muddy and thick but his head didn't feel as bad.

“I just...I wanna feel like I'm...doing a good job yknow? Like...sometimes….well hell, it doesn't feel like I'm doing anything. And then others...feels like I'm doing everything, and I can't stop yknow? Like it's easy enough, til it's not. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.

“But Frank...he always...he always knew the line and he had that look, you know the one…”

“Oh I know the one. I got that look more than you did.”

“Ha! I wouldn't be surprised. He always...he knew what to do. Everytime. How’d he do that huh?”

“Your brother’s a tough son of a gun. I know that can be a lot.”

“I guess. Shouldn't be though. Mean I, love him but…sometimes I feel like the odd man out is all. Mm...I don't...I dunno what I'm sayin, sorry Hawk.”

“S’alright Harry.”

“I just want’em to be proud yknow. I wanna do it right. Feel like, I'm missing the mark.”

“Yeah, your dad set the bar pretty high. Think he'd be proud though, Frank too. Hasn't been an easy year.”

“Mm. And Coops here now too. S’different.  
Want him to be happy...y'know? Just, maybe if he was happier he'd stay home.”

“I don't think that's true. He's got a job, you said so yourself, he works, you work...that's it.”

“Yeah...work...gotta work.” Harry felt like he'd been out swimming all day. His eyes burned and his muscles felt worked and heavy. Hawk was starting to sound further away.

“I miss’m when he works, I miss him…  
I want…a family like Frank’s got…want….a good life...with Coop. He loves me.”

“Yeah. He does.”

“I-Hawk I love him. A lot. I love Coop…yknow? What if I can't…give him what he needs?”

“He's fine Harry.”

“He's so...smart...what if he's bored? Or sad or…..I'm not doin enough….it's...not enough Hawk it's not...I'm not…”

“Har, I don't think Coop much gets bored. He always finds something. Think he's interested in you most of all.”

It was quiet for a bit. Then the scene changed once screen and Harry's snoring mingled with the music.

“Figures,” Hawk muttered, and started in on his pie.

 

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 -2:35pm**

Dishes clanked and jangled together as Harry opens his eyes. Someone moved out of the room, and the water was running. Bessie was next to him. The TV was off but there was singing.

He let his eyes close and settled back down on his pillow. They fluttered back open as a hand pressed against his forehead.

"Lemme see,” Hawk said and then slapped him lightly on the cheek, "Yup, fever’s down."

“Sorry….I fell asleep...again.

“It's alright. I’m gonna hit the road. Now you call if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Wait wait Hawk...Hawk...wait. Wash up before you leave,” Harry words ran together as he tried to stay awake.

“Yeah thanks mom. I’m way ahead of you. Pretty sure anyway you slice it, I've got one foot in the grave.”

“M’sorry…I really hope not.” 

“Nah it's alright I could use the time off.” 

“Well don't say...I never gave ya nothin.”

 

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - ? - Thirsty.**

The air felt cold and abrasive against Harry’s lungs, like it had too much salt in it. His mouth was dry too. Harry pushed himself up weakly to grab the pitcher of water. It shuddered as he poured himself a glass, doing his best not to spill it. The last thing his body wanted was to be wet.  
There was a metallic pang as the liquid made his way down his throat. He winced and grabbed a cough drop from the table, then set to work getting himself settled back under the covers. Nothing felt good or right, and everything had a faint pulsating heat around it. It was familiar and angry. Something he had put away a long time ago that bubbled up in his blood now and made it’s way round his heart.

“Hey Champ, how ya doing?” he heard a rough voice with cool hands say from somewhere in his mind.

“Maybe the glass,” he thought and held it against his cheek and remembered the cold comfort of grass. The ground underneath him would have been cool, after he slammed into it. Then there was the sensation of needing to move. Someone was calling his name, and muffled footsteps pounded toward him. Hank's arms, sweat and muscles.  
Hands in his hair. Frank’s voice ringing in his ears, “For the love of - Hank don’t!” Then Doc Hayward was there, shining lights and asking him questions, patting him on the shoulder. Mild concussion but should be alright, an ice pack over his eyes for now.

“Hey Champ, how ya doin?”

When did Hank get there?

“They say I’m gonna pull through. How bout you?”

“Oh I’m a goner,” Hank smirked rubbing his jaw, “Coach is beyond steamed, but that jackass will think twice next time before messing with you.”

“Hank...you didn’t have to do that y'know?” Harry said so softly that he wasn’t sure Hank heard him above the crowd.

“No?”

“No.”

“Well, who knows. Maybe I wanted to. Maybe I just felt like it.” He said this with a sort of bitterness that Harry couldn’t understand, feeling as bad as he did.

“Hell, I’m starving,” Hank peaked under the ice pack so he could see Harry better, “Can you stand?”

“Yeah...”

“Great. Let’s split, I’ll take you home.”

“But-”

“It’s fine, no one’s gonna miss us. C’mon let’s get your stuff.”

The Truman’s house was empty, everyone was back at the game. They showered there and Hank made himself at home as he always did. After helping himself to one of Harry’s shirts, he fixed them some sandwiches as Harry got dressed and settled on to the couch.

How could he forget those hands on his throbbing head or taking quick glances out of the corner of his eye at Hank, lit up by the blue TV light like a ghost? There was an urge to reach out and touch him, make sure it was real. Thinking back on it now, he wished he had. He still wasn’t sure and he’d always wonder, was any of it real? What was it Hank? How do you just turn it off? How do you just forget?

There were little things.

Things he wished he could take back. Things he said, and they shared, gifts of intimacy that he thought were treasured, that he gave freely. What for? He never could have guessed they were never considered, or that they were shoved away in a box somewhere, never saw the light of day. The thought of it made his body ache. It was as much the fever as it was regret. He wanted it back. All of it.

Were they trophies? Something to hang on your wall, Hank?

Does he remember looking him in the eyes too seriously when Harry said he was feeling dizzy? Does he remember Harry falling asleep on his shoulder? How long did Hank let him stay there before leading him up to bed? He never did get that shirt back, he never asked for it. Looked better on Hank anyway, a green flannel that made his brown hair look gold.

Voices roused Harry from his sleep, but he didn’t open his eyes as Frank came into the room. Didn’t feel like getting a talking to.

“Move it or lose it Hank,” Frank growled.

“Whatever,” Hank moved from Frank’s bed to Harry’s, adjusting himself softly on top of the covers by Harry’s feet. The bed filled with Hank’s warmth and wakefulness. Harry’s heart raced, but he didn’t move.

“How mad’s coach?”

“Oh he’s PO’d. Harry’s out for two weeks - doctor’s orders but I don’t know about you. Bet you’re gonna catch Hell. Jeez Hank, what’d you have to haul off and deck that guy for.”

“Shh! C’mon Frank, he’s sleeping.”

There was a silence between the two of them for a minute, and Harry felt like they could hear his eavesdropping.

“He alright?” Frank lowered his voice and sounded to Harry, genuinely concerned.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Gave me a scare I guess. We ate, watched a movie, said he felt sorta dizzy, but he seems ok, no thanks to you.”

“What’s that Hank?” Harry can almost hear his brother’s jaw set and blood start to boil.

“Someone’s gotta look out for your kid brother Frank, guess it’s me.”

“Is that what you call it? Listen you-”

Harry shifted uncomfortably now, his head was bothering him a bit but mostly he didn’t know what to do. The other boys froze until he settled.

“Listen, I don’t need you giving Harry any bright ideas. You’re not gonna hold him back just cause you don’t wanna be alone or whatall.”

“Boy, Frank, tell me how you really feel.”

“Hank, sometimes I don’t know what to think about you. You’re always in your own damn way, and I won’t have it, not for Harry.”

Hank sat upright in bed suddenly, “Far as I can tell we both want the same thing for him, so you better just come off it. He’s not suppose to be like us Frank, he shouldn’t have to get his hands dirty. It ain't right. He's smart…he's so smart.”

“Well I know that.”

“No ya don't. Not really. You guys don't listen to him not like-”

Harry accidentally lifted his head up a little at this. Hank thought he was smart? He didn't even think he was smart.

When Hank thought it was still he started again, “You oughta hear some of the things he says sometimes. He just needs somebody to listen to him. He could really do it yknow? He could go all the way, get himself outta here.”

Frank said something Harry couldn’t hear. He felt Hank rub his leg softly and say something low and easy and then jostle him as he laughed and settled back down on to the sheets. A body next to him, warm and earthy and then there was nothing.

The low rumble of snoring filled the room as Harry’s eyes adjusted to the light.  
Hank was at his feet, arm draped over his legs. Light came in through the window, and again, Hank looked unreal and even more beautiful than before.

“God…” Harry marveled.

“You can't sleep?”

Harry whipped his head to the side, Frank was laying down with his arms behind his head.

“My….my heads kinda bothering me,” He stammmered. It was dark enough that he figured Frank couldn't see the blush in his cheeks, but how long had he been watching him watch Hank?

“Mm.”

“I was thinking of, I might get some water.”

Frank nodded, “Lay down, I'll get it.”

He came back in with a glass of water and two ibuprofen.

“Mom was real worried yknow.”

Harry knocked the pills back and drank the rest of the glass while he thought of what to say. He knew she was, he felt real bad about it too but then, there was Hank.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled and braced for a speech.

“Well you oughta tell her as much,” Frank sat back on his own bed and looked at Harry from across the room. Harry nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He was getting off easy, Frank was tired.

“Harry…you oughta be more careful.”

“What? That wasn't my fault! That guy-”

“Harry.”

Frank said with an authority that mirrored his father’s in a way Harry hated. Frank looked off in the distance, but no, Harry followed his eyes, he was looking at Harry’s bed.

“You oughta be more careful.”

With that Frank laid back down and rolled on his side away from Harry and Hank. Harry felt a knot in his throat. The room was bright to him now, he could see everything and it was terrible.

“Things aren’t much better right now,” Harry thought, shrugging the blanket off his shoulders. Finally seeing some activity, Bessie tried to snuggle up against him.  
“No, no darling, not now ok?” He groaned and pushed her away gently, there was too much heat in him and he didn't want to be touched. The dog whined softly with confusion.

“M’sorry baby, I'm sorry.” He cooed at her best he could with his raspy throat, surprised she wasn't more startled.

Peeling the blanket away from his body, he coaxed himself out of the bed. He was tired of it, but then again he was tired of everything.

The view from the back porch was grim beyond the curtain of rain that lead out to the woods. Some birds flew into the trees looking for shelter.

“How did they manage?” He wondered, “Must be like getting beat up over and over out there.”

The iron in his blood felt like it had settled down into his extremities and he swayed in the cool air of the room but he didn’t leave the door. The woods stared back at him, full of eyes and decay and life. A massive creature, pulsing and dripping wet. He didn’t feel so different from the woods just then, an ache of growth and death and movement, riddled his body in ways he couldn’t see.

He used to love how close he was to the woods, even while knowing about the lingering strangeness they held. After the last year though, now he wasn’t so sure. There was no way he could have guessed what grew inside. and Then reached out to touch him so close, nearly taking away something he wasn’t sure he wanted, and wouldn't know how to replace if he lost it.

The feeling of betrayal was too familiar. Or maybe, that wasn’t it at all. Maybe it was just a misclassification. Maybe things like this don’t have secrets, they hold your hand and tell you what they are, and you ignore it.

You ignore every erratic and beautiful movement.

You ignore the shadowy smiles wrapped in warm red lips.

When you’re tired and pummeled and wet, you take comfort in the dry embrace of wings and never question how they are too velvety to be like your own. If you looked closer you could tell.

So you didn't.

He was unpredictable and at the right angle, full of gold. It was dazzling, and maybe a little blinding. At sunset especially, and it parked cars, you could get dizzy watching his acrobatics and feats of wonder, up and down and backwards. A distraction from what you already knew, it was only a trick of light, there was never any gold at all. He was darting from one impulse to the next.

“I woulda given him anything.” The words leaked out into the house burned his throat. “He just had to ask.”

“Maybe I just shoulda known,” he thought, “Maybe if I had just known…” a bout of coughing pulled him out of his thoughts.

A shuddering went through his ribs and he sat back on the bed to catch his breath.

Some of it had to be real. Was it all just an act? That seemed like too much work to Harry, but recently, he had learned the hard way that it was possible.

She was beautiful, but did not sing.

“That’s not so unusual,” he thought, “must be hard with eyes so sad.” He thought he recognized the look of grief.

This was the side of the bed she laid on when he promised to keep her safe.

This time would be different, this time he would meet every need and she would not have to ask, he would just know. His arms were not a cage, but they could do the job, protect her from the bird catcher, from the elements, and from every sort of predator.

This time he would make it right.

A red winged black bird?  
No, an upright autumn bird.  
A misclassification. It happens.

“How much do you know about her?”

Not enough to prevent what followed.

Finally, when she sang for him, he almost couldn’t believe it.  
This time there was proof.  
This time it was real. This time he was sure.

If he had listened closer, he might have noticed that what he took for music and comfort were only echos. The sounds of his own bitterness and broken heart bounced back to him relaxed away his guilt and brought his guard down. In the end, Catherine was right, he was too eager.  
It was only when she spread her wings to leave that Harry could see it clearly, she was the predator and the prey and he couldn’t protect either of them.

He had tried to warn him.

The most handsome man Harry had ever seen stood across from him in a suit. Lean and tall and rosy. He remembered holding his breath and not much else. The warmth of his attraction was undeniable but Dale Cooper looked as cool as a glass of water.

“Where she’s from? Who she was before?”

Harry remembered feeling the heat drain out of him and replace itself with something that was like shame. A shame for feeling the attraction at all and for his own naivety.

“I know all I need to know. I love her...”

He did, but he always did.

“Harry, you oughta be more careful.”

It’s not how Frank meant it, but for a long time when it came to love, he had tried.  
It came out of equal parts fear and duty, although he’d never admit it.

At any given time he had a list of reasons for his singleness at the ready:  
-He hadn’t found the right person  
-He didn’t want to stir things up in town  
-He didn’t have time  
There was something for every occasion, somethings he’d never say out loud.

Now though, the only reason he needed was feeling hurt and tired.

It was exhausting to keep building something, hoping that this time it wouldn’t be torn down, or at least that he wouldn’t be made to watch.

“Hank thought I was smart?” Harry laughed bitterly, he couldn’t think of anything more foolish.

Dale was smart though. Smart, and beautiful and as raven dark as midnight on a moonless night. There was precision in everything about him, straight and true. Occasionally, Harry would worry he’d see an unexpected pattern, an erratic spin of uncertainty and he remembered his list and pull away. With time though, he recognized it for what it was, an injury, not properly healed.

He knew it the same way he felt it in himself.

Still he tried to be discerning:  
-Where was he from?  
-Who was he before?  
-Did it matter?

He’d known Hank for years.

He’d known Josie for months.

How long had he known Dale when he thought he could build something with him?

If he had learned anything, it was that time didn’t seem to make much of a difference in these things. Maybe together, they could build a place to rest and heal.

So, they did.

This was their home now.  
His and Dale’s. They had dogs.  
They had friends. They had plans.

Dale planned to come home Sunday...if he could help it.

That was the plan. It was...Thursday. Maybe. And if he could help it, Dale would be home in 3 days. That’s not bad at all.

Hank had plans.  
Josie had plans.

Only, none of their plans seemed to involve Harry in the long term.

Dale had plans...if he could help it.

Was there more than that? The best laid plans of Sheriffs and Special Agents.

“What if he doesn't come back?” he thought suddenly and then shook his head to put it out of his mind.

“Sunday. Coop’s coming back Sunday. It's ok. I'm just, being dramatic.” He muttered into the room.

The tightness in his throat felt like his body was trying to swallow his Adam's apple and he tried to calm down.

No sense in getting worked up, he already couldn't breath. There was no relaxing himself though. He didn't want anything, he just wanted Dale.

Bessie tried to wiggle close to him again. “Thank you sweetheart.” He mumbled and wiped at his face. She didn’t seem to mind when he curled up into her, or when his tears wet her fur.

Bessie had no plans, no plans at all.

**Thursday, October 19th 1989 - 9:40pm - Incoming phone call**

“...Sheriff Truman speakin,” Harry mumbled into the receiver.

“Oh Harry…”

“Hmm?” It took Harry a second to realize who it was or that he was on the phone, “Coop? How-how are you Darlin?”

“I'm okay…”

“Okay. Good...that's good. Good.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Bout the same. Been tryna sleep. Lucy made me soup. Hawk brought it.”

“That's very nice. I'll have to thank her.”

“Mhmm maybe... a card or something. How’re you Darlin, y-you doing ok?”

“I-Harry I'm just fine.”

“Oh I- did I ask you that already?

“You did.”

“I'm sorry Coop, I'm a little-I’ve been fighting off a fever, so I’m a little confused or, sorry, I’m just-”

“A fever?”

“Yeah-mm-yeah- but a little one, y'know, nothing to write home about, when-when were you coming home?” He asked half forgetting and half hoping the answer had changed.

“Sunday…”

“Right, right, good. Good, right, you-you had said,” He swallowed hard, he felt his throat become taut at the confirmation, “Okay. I’m sorry, I-I’m just a little tired, I’m...sorry.”

“Harry, maybe I should-”

“Nope, no. No ya don't. You are not,” He sighed and Dale could hear the waiver in his breathing as he tried to muster up conviction, “You’re not coming home early cause I'm a little bit under the weather, it’s-it’s-I’m feelin...”

The lids of his eyes fluttered, trying to will away sleep. As badly as he wanted to stay with Coop, it was a losing battle.

“Okay, I think I...I might need to go back to bed…”

“Harry, can someone come by and look in on you?”

“It's...it's 10 o’clock…”

“But maybe I can call-”

“No, no I’m fine, I just- maybe I’ll stop by Doc Haywards tomorrow, see if he can't give me a once over. I’m ok...I think I’m falling asleep on you sweetheart and I think I-I’d rather not,”

“You can, that’s ok.”

“No no I-I don’t need to be talking nonsense in your ear…Can’t be...telling you all sorts of…secrets and things...I-I can’t have that….can’t...have….”

“Honestly, Harry, I’d love that.”

“You’re funny, you're so....I miss you.” Dale could hear a different tremor in Harry's voice now, “Darlin’ I miss you….I miss you so much.”

“I know. I'm sorry. Harry I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for it to be this long, and I- Harry?”

It was suddenly quiet, save for an occasional sniffle from the other line.

“Harry?” Dale sighed softly, “Oh Harry.”

“Hmm? What? Oh.” Harry’s voice broke a little.

“I said I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“Oh. No, no, Dale, that’s alright. I know it’s no picnic for you either.”

“Did you fall asleep?”

“Mm...think so…”

“Ok Harry. Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Mm’okay. Alright. When-oh. No, I asked you that…”

“It's ok. I’ll be back Sunday I promise.”

“Okay. Dale? Please-please be careful-I'm-I worry about you...I'm worried.”

“You're…” Coop thought about this a moment, “Ok Harry...I’ll be careful. Get some rest.”

“Okay.”

Coop faded away and the room swirled together as he felt himself sink deeper and deeper into sleep.


	6. Friday, October 20th 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to get back to work. Coop comes home. It's just that simple.

**Friday, October 20th 1989 - 7:00pm - Bed**  
**Friday, October 20th 1989 - 7:20pm - Bed**  
**Friday, October 20th 1989 - 7:51pm - Clouds**

The white of the ceiling seemed to swirl around his head and Harry wondered if they were in for another downpour. Maybe he had missed it. The room felt cooler than it had last night and it didn't have the persistent haze that he had become increasingly accustomed to over the last few days. He could almost think clearly. Maybe, after a shower, he could even move passed almost and into somewhere in between hung out to dry and needing a cup of coffee. From the bed, anything seemed possible.

The congestion in his head shifted as he sat up. With his feet on the floor, things seemed a little less possible and getting to the shower sounded more like running a marathon barefoot through the tundra. Still, he thought again of the shower, the warm panacea for all his ailments, and doubled down on his commitment.

“That's enough rest Truman, back to work.” He grumbled and picked up the phone.

 

**Friday, October 20th 1989 - 7:51pm - Outgoing Phone Call**

“Twin Peaks Sheriff's Station, how can I help you?”

“Morning Lucy.”

“No, this is Lucy.”

Harry was quiet at this for a minute but then remembered he sounded like a rusted pipe that was full of wet cotton.

“I...I know. Sorry, I'm still a little stuffed up.”

“Sheriff Truman? Is that you?”

“Yeah it’s me. I’m calling cause- could you let Hawk know, I won’t be in for roll but if he could hold down the fort til maybe 9 or 10-”

“Sheriff Truman, you sound very sick. Are you feeling better?”

“A little, might have...turned a corner. Oh, thank you for the soup. That was a big help.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Can you just tell Hawk, I’m gonna try to be in no later than 10?”

“...Ok Sheriff Truman! I’ll pass that along.”

“Thanks Lucy.” He tried not to sniffle as he hung up the phone.

“Nothing like a little obligation to light a fire under you,” he thought, slowly getting to his feet. “Turned a corner? Maybe.”

The dogs trailed behind him out of the bedroom as Harry blew his nose and tried to pull himself together to finish the week.

 

**Friday, October 20th 1989 - 9:25am -**

The rain had left the previous glory of the autumn leaves the consistency of wet paper bags. They clung and shivered against the road and sidewalks as Dale drove by. It was not the welcome he had hoped for.

The weather suggested to him that he ought to have both hands on the wheel so his tape recorder laid dutifully on his lap, he had pulled over to start it as he got into town.

“Diane, it’s 9:25 on Friday, October 20th. Harry wasn’t kidding about the weather, it was not a pleasant plane ride by any means. No matter how many accommodations we add to air travel, I’m not sure I’ll ever truly be comfortable.”

He paused here as his thoughts drifted to Harry and his disappointment at the reckless drivers in town. The last thing they needed was for him to get into a car accident right now, and he made a point to slow down.

“Diane, I have to admit, I’m anxious. Anxious to be home and anxious about Harry’s well being.”

His voice trailed off into a yawn. After getting off the phone with Harry, sleep hadn’t quite gone according to plan.

There had been pacing. There had been some back and forth with Albert about the severity of the flu in an adult man. There had been the surprisingly difficult task of getting a hold of Gordon directly to discuss the possibility of his leaving early due to a “personal emergency” seeing as the case had mostly concluded. This lead to more back and forth, but this time it was a bit louder. Once that was through, accusations of “overreacting” were made but were quickly followed by instructions for proper care and well wishes from Albert. Procedures were followed and new arrangements for travel were made, all before Dale’s head finally hit the pillow. Even then he didn’t sleep. The thought of Harry collapsing in their out of the way home, without anyone to help him, brought him out of any restfulness that started to take root. Albert had made it clear that the likelihood of something like that happening was slim. Still, Dale didn’t like the sliver of possibility.

“I’m a bit embarrassed about carrying on the way I did last night. I'm sure you've heard by now. Hopefully, Albert will excuse my irritability, he was very helpful actually. I’ll have to call him when I get in. He won’t admit it, but I believe he’s a bit worried about Harry too. Diane, he was so hoarse, he barely sounds like himself, not to mention he seemed a bit disoriented, that worries me more.”

The wind sputtered and blustered through familiar sights that looked desaturated in the stormy weather. The errant person was moving quickly indoors and the streets were relatively empty.

“The double R seems to be the most lively spot in town just now, everything else looks closed. People would risk their necks for pie it would seem. Diane, I can hardly blame them. I hope one day you get to try it for yourself. Honestly, I could use a cup of coffee.” He slowed down, but then moved back to a moderately safe pace.

“I had better not, the whole point of my leaving early was to get to Harry as quickly as I could. Coffee can wait, and you know I don’t say that lightly. I just can’t shake this feeling. It’s possible that Albert is right, I might be overreacting. Harry’s a grown man and certainly we’ve both seen worse than the flu. Still, I can't help but feel this was the right decision. Call it what you will, but when has my intuition failed me? On second thought Diane, don't answer that.”

Houses thinned out and trees rose on either side of the road with bare branches that clawed and grabbed at the blank, unfriendly sky.

“Oh, I believe I have everything I need but please forward any additional paperwork to the cabin, which,” he smiled at the recognition of a few particular bushes, “should be coming up on my right any second now. And, there it is, home sweet home. Diane, please relay my thanks again to Gordon and my apologies to Albert. And, I’ve parked. I’ll tell Harry you said ‘G’morning’ as you instructed. I better get inside and see what’s what.”

The recorder clicked off and he gathered his things. In the muddy light of the morning he could tell that the porch light had been left on. It glowed faintly, trying it’s best to illuminate the already bright area around it without much success.

 

**Friday, October 20th 1989 - 9:30am -**

Only Barkley met Dale at the door. Nuzzles quickly curtailed any barking that might upset a nearby sleeper.

“Hiya boy, Where's Harry?” Dale whispered. Then he saw him. Shivering, head to toe in khaki, lay Harry Truman on their couch with a dog by his legs. This was a relief only in that he assumed Harry was in the bedroom, which would mean his snoring was particularly loud.

The grey daylight misted into the room and illuminated little, so Dale put a light on to see what he was dealing with. Under Harry's neck was a bath towel. He had one sock on and the other was near his chest with a few crumpled tissues. The coffee table looked like a small pharmacy and there was a card, that said “Sorry you're,” with a picture of a small horse underneath it.

Before he could reach Harry, the phone rang.

Harry's body contracted at the sound.  
“Sh-Sheriff Truman….” He muttered and turned on his side, curling into himself.

“Cooper here,” he said quietly as he picked up the phone and started to shrug off his trench coat.

“Coop? Where the hell have you been?” Hawk asked with a kernel of sincerity and a dollop of accusation.

“How’s Harry? Lucy said he was gonna come in, I was hoping to catch him before he left, give him an earful.”

“He's right here. Asleep thankfully.” He frowned and sat gingerly by Harry's feet, trying to pull the other sock off. Harry quickly moved his leg away. Bessie shuffled closer to him protectively.

Dale frowned, “Hawk, has it been very bad?”

“Let's just say, it takes a lot to bring him down, but when he goes, look out.”

Dale rubbed Harry's remaining leg softly.

“Is this a regular occurrence?”

“Nah. Let's see, last remember might have been when Andrew went…the first time anyway. Think it wore him out. He loved that guy. Don't know why, he always struck me as kind of a prick. Anyway he tried to work through it. Wasn't a great idea if I recall, nearly passed out in the Station.”

“I see.” Dale could hardly imagine the scene. The looking at Harry pulling himself tighter, he worried he wouldn't have to work that hard to picture it.

“Hawk! I appreciate the call, I should probably get back to it.”

“No problem! You let us know if you need anything alright?”

"Very good. Oh Hawk, thank you for your friendship,Harry tells me you were a big help."

"Friendship? You'll find a bill for my services in the mail by the end of the week. See ya Coop"

Pushing the cold medicine out of the way, Dale sat down on the coffee table across from Harry and placed a hand on his forehead.

“My goodness,” he muttered, surprised at how warm he was. Although, Harry was always ran a bit hot, so he wasn't sure how accurate this was.

It was his own personal musing but something about Harry always gave Dale a sense that he was made of clay and tempered in fire. He was always warm.  
In that way, Harry was a little more than a man, something built and molded together thoughtfully. How else could someone be so kind and long suffering while still being so full of determined heat?

Now though, even in the dim of the morning light, he could see his color was gone as the warmth pulled away from his body, leaving him pale and his lips cracked. A shiver wandered its way over his skin, and his chest rose and fell at a tempo that was quick and urgent and crumbling around the edges.

“Harry? I'm home,” Dale said, hoping that once Harry was awake, things wouldn’t be as bad as they appeared.

Harry crinkled his eyebrows but didn't stir.

“Harry?” Dale tried again, rubbing his shoulder this time.

 

**?, October ? 1989 - ? - Norma’s for Breakfast**

Harry's eyes blinked open slowly and closed again with a smile that seem relieved.

“Coop? M’sorry Darlin’ I...I was sposed to get up early, make ya breakfast...but…. I'm...sorta tired,” he mumbled nearly falling back asleep. “Can we just...go to Norma's? I'll make it up to ya I’m-”

“Harry? I'm home.”

“I know...I-I know….You're….” His eyes opened wide, “Oh...you're home?

“That’s right!” Dale smiled reassuringly trying to latch on to the recognition in Harry’s sleepy eyes.

The towel tumbled off Harry’s neck as he sat up shakily and more quickly than he should have. “When did you get here? When-what day is it, what day, is it Sunday? Is it-”  
He brought a hand to his head and swayed slightly, taking a breath.

“Shh, shh shhh, Harry, it's ok,” he said softly. Despite his best intentions not to startle him, Harry seemed primed to be panicked. “It's Friday.”

**Friday? October 20th 1989 - ?**

“Friday? No, no, no, you said Sunday,” he shook his head, “I thought...oh no, Coop, you didn't? I didn't want you to-”

Turning from Dale sharply he doubled over in a coughing fit that made his tall frame heave and shudder and left Dale frozen in alarm. This already sounded worse than he had expected and, mostly out of instinct, he reached out to rub Harry’s back as he slowly sat back up and caught his breath.

“It’s alright. We finished early. I'll just have to send over some paperwork. It's ok.”  
With his hand still on his back he moved to sit next to him and pulled him close into a hug.

“No, no you shouldn't,” Harry muttered and tried weakly to pull away but Dale just tightened his embrace.

“I don't want you to get…oh. Oh god. You feel so good,” he sighed and let Dale hold him.

“You're home? You're really here?”

“I am really here.”

“Oh Dale,” he burrowed further into his neck.

The ripples in Harry's body were clear to Dale now and he instinctively rubbed his back trying to warm him up. Fingers gripped at Dale’s clothes and he could feel heat radiating off of Harry's body.

“What am I going to do with you Harry Truman?” Dale whispered into his curls.

“Whatever you want.” Harry sighed.

“I think I want to get you to bed.” Dale ran his hand through Harry's hair. It was a little damp but unquestionably warm.

“Already?” Harry panted trying to smile, “you're...insatiable.”

“I think you may have a fever. Can you stand for me?”

He nodded but he didn't move. A choppy sigh staggered out from Harry's body and Dale felt it shake his own.

“It's alright take all the time you need.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry croaked, “I missed you so bad, Darlin, so bad.”

“Oh, Harry. I know, I know, I'm sorry.”

Dale could feel Harry shake his head, “No, you're fine. It's me. I'm such a baby, can't take care of myself for a week.”

Harry's chest jolted against Dale's arms as he tried not to cough.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled.

“It's fine.”

“No, I need you to know you- you can go away and everything will be fine when you get home, I'm sorry I-I-I-” His body shuddered as he tried to catch his breath.

“I do trust that Harry. I do. It's been a bad week for you hm?

Harry nodded, “Really don't feel well.”

“You're all dressed for work?”

Fingers uncoiled from Dale's clothes suddenly and soon Harry pulled away, wiping at his face.

“Oh no, what time is it?”

“Nearly 10.”

“I gotta call the station.”

“Harry, it's already taken care of.”

“Oh. Really? Okay. Okay.”

 

**Friday, October 20th 1989 - “Nearly 10”**

Taking in Dale now, he looked a bit tired in his suit pants and dress shirt, now stained wet on the shoulder. Harry had mussed his hair a bit too. It's not how he wanted to greet him, he wanted to be a shelter from the road, not a hurricane.

“How was your trip?” He rubbed at his face trying to act like the last five minutes hadn't happened.

“Why don't we get you to bed and I'll tell you all about it ok?

“Okay.” An ache went through his tendons and his embarrassment was swallowed up by shivers, “Dale? I'm cold.”

“I know,” there was a seriousness in Dale’s voice that made him sound almost severe, “That's why we need to get you to bed. Slow, alright?”

Dale braced him to stand and the two of them shuffled toward the bedroom, stopping occasionally when a bout of coughing overtook Harry. Barkley circled them as they went and Bessie went ahead to get the bed ready.

“And down, there we go,” Dale said lowering Harry to the sheets and quickly moving to the dresser.

“Your body's just a little worked up that's all. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Harry shook his head, “I just wanna lay down. Can you-can you c’mere? I want you next to me.”

“Why don't we get you out of those clothes first, hm?”

“No, no I'm cold. Dale I'm cold…” He shook his head more emphatically.

“I know, but you're not going to sleep well in those. I'll be fast, okay?”

Bessie grumbled and moved out of the way as Dale wrapped the comforter around Harry's shoulders.  
Slender fingers darted over Harry's shirt buttons as he leaned into Dale’s chest trying not to cough. Waves of pain came more frequently now and it helped having something to steady him.

“Harry, what are you doing dressed for work?”

“Was feeling a little better this morning, thought I could make it.” Harry mumbled, not looking up from Dale’s chest, “Y’know? Take something, do my best. Besides, was home all day yesterday and half the day before. Figured that was enough.”

A shiver went through Harry's skin as Dale slipped his hands under his shirt.

“Well it sure doesn’t seem that way. Arms up.”

Harry shook his head and took the shirt, “I've got it.”  
Dale nodded and got to work on his belt.

“Where's the thermometer?”

“Doesn't matter, I've got a fever, end of story. Could ya please stop fussin and stay here with me?”

Dale absentmindedly pet his hair and looked around for supplies.  
“In a minute, I want you to have everything you need. Medicine? Living room.”

“No, no...Dale…” Harry pulled himself close to Dale's stomach.

“You need some water and maybe something to bring that fever down, a compress? I'm not sure-” He really wasn’t. When was the last time he had done this for anyone? It was such a rudimentary thing, but he felt surprisingly helpless as Harry squeezed him with what strength he had left in him.

“Dale, I really….you’re all I need. Please, can you-”

Dale’s balance shifted unexpectedly, as Harry pushed him back. His bare shoulders shook as he sneezed weakly away from Dale. Even that seemed like too much effort for him.

“This won’t do.” Dale thought as he put his arms around Harry again, who managed a groan before more coughs rattled out of his chest.

“Tissues?” Dale murmured and looked around the room. With one hand still on Harry’s trembling back, he bent to snatch them off the nightstand.

“Here.” He placed the box in Harry’s lap. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Harry nodded, his face still in his hands, as Dale hesitantly left the room.

Everything felt clumsy as Harry tortured a tissue out of the box, ending up with one and a half in his hands. He winced as he blew his nose for the dozenth time.  
Nudging his undone trousers from his waist, he let them crumple to the floor around his feet and assessed his body. What didn't feel completely exhausted, ached or burned. He didn't want to think about what he looked like.

None of it mattered though, not if Dale was here. Things would be alright now.

Unless he was leaving again. Then what? Things would have to be alright then too.  
A passing shower in the landscape of his life, blustering through and leaving Harry in pieces. What they built together in ruins, or had he built it by himself again? Weren't they Dale’s plans too?  
Right, he wasn't like that. And now that he was here.  
He was here right? Had he dreamed that?

Clouds of heat swam around his head, making it hard to get a hold of his thoughts.

“Dale?” He closed his eyes tight and called out into the house. It came out as a garbled whine.

“I'll be right there Harry!”

So he was here. It was real.  
At least, as far as he could tell.

“Never meant much before,” he thought as an icy frustration broke out all over his skin.

The blanket slumped off his shoulders and he grabbed at his arms, hoping to work the sensation out of his muscles.

How could he trust anyone if he didn't trust himself?  
He shook his head.  
No. Dale was here, it was ok.  
He could trust Dale.

“Because,” he swallowed hard and thought this over.

“Because Dale loves me?”  
Or did he just think Dale loved him?

“Because I love him?”  
Had that stopped anyone before?

“Because…”

“I always called you from here. It was here I could talk to you and be everything you wanted me to be.”

A song he knew too well.

Was he that easy to read? Could anyone look him up and down and show him what he wanted?  
It seemed like too much work to put on such an elaborate act. Maybe he was so naive, and so willing that it was effortless to be all the things Harry wanted.  
That list was short.

Things Harry Truman wanted in a relationship  
-Someone attractive  
-Someone kind  
-Someone to admire  
-Someone to be comfortable with  
-Someone to protect & care for  
-Someone to be needed by

Those were the broad strokes of it.  
Maybe Josie never had to figure him out, he handed her the list, all she had to do was follow it. How many nights had she laughed at how easy he had made it? Did that make the game boring? Had Hank told her about the night on the couch and how he had played with Harry’s hair when he thought he had fallen asleep? Insider tips. Had they swapped stories of hunting and shown each other trophies? Had they laughed in the dark about how simple it all really was?

“...be more careful…”

Why was it so easy? Was it his fault?  
This would never happen to Frank. He always knew what to do. Everyone said Frank had their father’s eyes, sharp like a sword to pierce through anything untrue. Harry didn’t get those, his eyes were full of trust and second chances.  
They weren’t made for this.

“Harry, it’s not an insult. She’s a wonderful woman, an absolute delight. The fact of the matter is, if Frank were still in town, we all know who would be Sheriff today.”

“You don’t really believe that do ya...bout Frank?”

“I do,” He thought suddenly. “Why don't I know what to do? Why don’t I see it coming? What if it's not true? Why don't I know? I can’t do it again.”

“Alright, I think I have everything you need,” Dale came in triumphantly with a basket full of supplies and a glass of water.

“Dale?” It was a plea more than a question, dripping with an urgency that gripped Dale's heart and quickly brought him to Harry's side.

“It's alright, I'm here. What happened? I'm right here Harry, it's ok.” The basket was dropped to the foot of the bed and the glass settled haphazardly on the nightstand.  
Soon Dale’s arms were around Harry, present and firm, altogether different from Harry’s grip on Dale which was taut and trembling.

It had only been five minutes, but Harry looked worse than ever, leaving Dale was more at a loss than before. His solid, rugged Sheriff was in front of him teary eyed and shaking and he didn't know how to fix it.

“I can’t do it again.” Harry muffled into Dale’s shirt as he tried to pull the blanket back over Harry’s shoulders but Harry was moving too much and it kept slipping off.

“Can’t do what? Harry, what happened?” He sat down next to him and pulled him close but Harry struggled away to look at Dale.

“No, no, I-I need to know,” he held his head with one hand and kept Dale at bay with the other, “Is this real? I need you to tell me…”

Dale reached out a hand hesitantly to stroke Harry’s cheek and spoke as soothingly as he could.

“That's the fever Harry, that's-you're running a fever. As soon as it comes down, I'm sure you'll be right as rain. We need to get some liquids in you though. Can you drink some water for me?”

“No. Now Dale, now. It’s happened too many times before...”

“Hawk mentioned you had been particularly unwell some time ago, is that what you mean?”

Harry shook his head in frustration, “It’s-I'm not explaining...oh…oh Dale...I don't feel good…”

“I know, shh, I know sweetheart. Maybe you should try to sleep?” Dale nodded as though this made the suggestion more convincing.

Harry took a deep breath, as if to ground himself for what he was about to say. It only got him so far as his jaw quivered as the words came out, “You and me…is it real?”

Dale was surprised, he hadn’t thought for a second Harry was worried about their relationship.

“If...if it's not I understand, but I'm not-I'm not doing it again. I can't, I'm not strong enough. I'm just not. So you gotta tell me...please. Please.”

“...Harry. Of course it is.” Dale’s eyes worked over Harry frantically in disbelief, trying to find the cause of this sudden turn, “Have I given you any reason to think it’s not?”

“ No...but no one ever does, and I come to find it wasn't as real as I thought it was…it-it wasn't real at all. It was all in my head I guess.”

His hand pushed his hair back, “I thought...I thought she loved me. And she didn't.”

Desperate, glassy eyes met Dale’s, begging him to understand.

“It wasn’t real. None of it. And I'm so stupid for believing it...again,” He looked away from Dale, blinking quickly and then running a hand over his eyes roughly.

“Fool me twice right?” He muttered in a low, near growl.

“Harry…”

“If that's what this is, you tell me right now Dale Cooper, cause I'm not doing it again, I'm not...I'm-”

As he broke off into a mix of coughing and tears, Dale pulled him back to his chest, trying to keep him from breaking apart.

“Why does it keep happening? Why did they do it? What’s-what's wrong with me Dale? What’s wrong with me?”

“Shhh...Harry, nothing is wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. Well, I suppose, right now you have a temperature but other than that there is nothing wrong with you.”

Harry was hot against him. That by itself would make Dale nervous but more than anything he was worried about this new unease seemed to spring from somewhere else.

The rain tapped impatiently on the house as if it were waiting for Dale to answer, but he kept silent and let Harry flutter in his arms for a moment.

“I just can’t Dale…ya gotta tell me,” Harry whispered, sniffling now and again, trying to keep himself contained. His chest jerked sporadically in a way that seemed familiar and unsettling to Dale.

“Shh, I know. Just breathe. Breathe with me, ok? In and out,” Dale’s voice was steady but his eyes were panicked. Finally, whether the exhaustion had become too much for Harry or he was calming down, he seemed to find some stillness in Dale’s arms.

“There. There we go. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Dale whispered to him, taking the break to review what Harry had said.

The question was an easy one for Dale; the answer was yes.  
Everything about their relationship was deceptively simple and yet, for Dale, it was serious and very real.

Was that the right answer? Dale had a feeling that, while correct, it wasn’t. Letting his fingers coil through Harry's hair, he thought about holding a similar Harry in his arms mere months ago. The same hands that grabbed at his shirt then had intertwined with Josie’s not long before that. They were strong hands, ready to work and ready to fight for whoever needed it. They would hold tight and not let go unless they had to. They didn't expect to have to.

How often were they forced to? How often had they been pried away?

Dale thought of his own hands. Softer maybe, open. They learned not to be pleading. They learned not to beg. Most of all, they learned to pretend they weren’t greedy for something that seemed just beyond their reach. For the last few years they groped their way through the darkness. It seemed endless. Then suddenly they found themselves in the tight embrace of Harry’s own hands, pulling him out. It was different than he expected, certainly it was different than anything that had come before. That is to say, so far, it was much better. Yet, to think things could get that dark again when his eyes had just adjusted to the light, was terrifying if he really considered it. Looking down at Harry in his arms, he suddenly realized he had already done so, many times over.

“Oh,” he said out loud and then breathed in deeply.

“Harry, have I told you about my fear of birds?”

“Y-yeah?” The unexpected question brought Harry out of his thoughts and back to the room, back to Dale’s arms.

“You know it’s funny, if you told me a year ago I would have chickens living in my backyard I would have laughed at you. Yet, here we are.”

Dale rubbed Harry’s back and waited as he choked through some coughs.

“Sometimes, they still make me nervous. Memory is strange in that way. The connections our mind makes with our past and our present are astounding, albeit a little frustrating at times. Logically, the experience that upset me in my youth, is not the same one I have with your ladies out back. Still, as much as I want to, I suppose I can’t help it.”

Harry was quiet for a moment and Dale could feel his breathing settle into a more even tone than it had been since he came home.

“Harry, I can’t promise that we will always be together. Unfortunately, that’s not reasonable. But I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will never, ever, deceive you. You will never have to go through that again. I know sometimes things are worrisome but…look at me Harry.”

The redness of Harry's face was a surprise to Dale as Harry’s eyes met his own. They were raw around the rims but so soft and pleading that it made Dale’s heart stop, “Harry? I love you. I'm not going anywhere.”

The story sunk into Harry’s mind thickly and he searched Dale’s face for a connection. Dale looked back at him, hesitantly hoping this was, in fact, the actual answer to Harry’s question.

Finally, Harry nodded and closed his eyes.

“Dale is smart,” he thought as he let the last of his tears and tension fade from his body the best he could. The cold feeling on his skin was persistent and still rippled in and out and over every bit of him, but each wave of chill was quickly followed by Dale’s warm familiar hands chasing it away. The abrupt staccato of his breathing was also mellowing into a more rhythmic swirl, in and out of his lungs. The air around Dale was sweet and soothing and made him sleepy.

“Harry? Did you hear me? Are you ok?”

Harry nodded against Dale’s chest, talking sounded exhausting. Crying hadn’t done him any favors, his face was hot, his nose was stuffy and his throat was more torn up than before. A cough huffed out of his chest and he pulled into Dale even more.

“My goodness,” Dale whispered, “but you’re warm.”

“M’sorry.”

“It’s fine Harry, I’m just worried about you.”

“Sorry bout that too. Don’t want you worrying.”

“Now, I thought that was part of the job. Driving to airports, worrying over fevers. Harry, would ya let me be your boyfriend? Hm?” Dale’s voice was more light hearted but feeling the taut goosebumps on Harry’s skin, he frowned. It would be a long morning.

Still, this was an improvement.

“Okay.” Harry sighed and then looked up at Dale, “You’re…still scared of the girls?”

“A definite improvement.” Dale thought and gave Harry a firm squeeze to moved him back slightly so he could get up.

“Sometimes. When they get riled up it can make me nervous. That’s a little silly isn’t it?”

“…No.”

“Oh,” Dale retrieved the basket from the floor and started unpacking its contents on the night stand.

“Well, I suppose, I should have told you. I didn’t want to bother you with it.” He said, pouring some medicine into the provided plastic cap. “Would you have wanted me to tell you that? Even if there was nothing you could do about it?”

“I…” Harry turned the whole scene over in his mind and smirked, “Yeah. Yeah I think I would.”

“Alright then,” Dale handed Harry the cap, and brushed at some of the curls slicked to his forehead, “I’ll try to remember that for next time. How about that?”

Harry took the cap from him and nodded wearily, surprised at how calm he felt despite everything. Calm, but embarrassed. There was barely enough energy to be upset about his behavior though, he figured his subconscious would censure him once his body wasn't trying to light itself on fire.

“Do you need anything else? Are you hungry? I could run down to Norma's.”

“No, Darlin. I just need you.” Harry let his head lean into Dale's stomach, trying not to think about how unattractive and gross he felt at the moment, on top of generally feeling awful.

“Well good. I'm exhausted. Why don't we take a nap?”

The starch of Dale's shirt against Harry's lips was suddenly very stark.

“You're, not gonna sleep well in those,” he smiled up at him sheepishly and then frowned.

“Dale, you don't have to. You just got in, and ya had to deal with my whining. You don't wanna eat or take a shower, or something?” Harry shivered and Dale pulled the blankets around him again.

“Harry, I think you hit the nail on the head.” He tapped Harry's nose lightly. “I just need you. Although, you're probably right, I would like to change and, if you'll indulge me, I would like to take your temperature.”

“Alright.”

The device beeped before Dale could finish dressing and he strolled over to Harry in a pair of red boxers.

“That's higher than I’d like,” he muttered and put the thermometer on the nightstand. Dale tried not to worry over it, but he was tempted to call Albert for a more clinical assessment. The medicine would do it’s job soon enough and maybe after some proper sleep, things might seem brighter.

“Did you want your shirt?” He ran a hand over Harry’s forehead as though to put a number to a feeling.

“Nah...think I'll end up taking it off anyway. That’s how it’s been.”

“Hopefully that means you’re evening out,” Dale sighed, still feeling unsure.

“Did you want a shirt?” Harry trailed his fingers along Dale's chest and down to his stomach. A reflexive flinch, followed by a hum of laughter ran through him.

Dale shrugged his slight shoulders, “I should be fine. I have a feeling you'll be plenty warm for the both of us.” He moved passed Harry and arranged himself in their bed.

“Well? Come on. I thought you wanted me next to you.”

There was a rustling of sheets and blankets as the two of them settled into each other.

“You're the best pillow,” Harry murmured, nuzzling Dale's chest.

Their skin adhered to one another, a sticky soft velcro. Harry tried not to be too aware of this, and how uncomfortable he might be making Dale, who wouldn't let on.

“I'm fine Harry.” Dale whispered, noticing the hesitation and soon his fingers were back in his hair, trying to relax him. It was working and Harry felt his sight trying to hold off against his eyelids growing heavy.

Letting them fall, his whole body stretched long and finally settled into Dale. Despite his congestion, his breathing became deep and slow as Dale rubbed his back.

“Hey Coop?” He whispered.

“Hmm?” Dale sounded a bit sleepy himself.

“Do you...think I'm smart?”

“Do I think you're smart.” He repeated rhythmically and thought a minute.

“Why yes Harry, I think you're very smart,” he leaned down to plant a kiss in Harry's hair and started making lazy circles on his chest with his fingers.

“You're always telling me things I've never heard before. There are so many details about the world I didn't know I didn't know until I met you. Why?”

The only answer he got were Harry's sniffles which quickly turned into snoring. The noise reverberated through Dale's bones and he smiled to himself.

“Fools never catch cold, Harry,” Dale whispered and soon followed him into sleep.

They were a nest of blankets and pillows and sheets, held together by each other.  
It was the most comfortable Dale had been in weeks.


	7. Epilogue: Thursday, October 26th 1989

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet times at the cabin and contemplation on the future ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as usual to Sbubby for proofing this last bit for me....months ago.

Thursday, October 26th 1989 - 7:00am - The Cabin

The scent of coffee filled the house. Harry breathed deeply, appreciating the privilege a little more since the last week. His voice was still a bit worse for wear but he was happy to enjoy a variety of smells besides coffee, like Dale’s hair gel, or the soap on Dale’s neck, or the lingering cologne when Dale left the room. It was all those little things that meant Dale was home, that he had missed so much over the last month.

Precariously holding two mugs in one hand, Harry gingerly opened the door to the bedroom with the other to slink into the room as quietly as he could. Setting the mugs on the night stand, he threw open the curtains, causing a pile of blankets on the bed to scrunch together.

“Too Bright!” The blanket pile whined.

“Whoops! Sorry. Force of habit,” Harry pulled them closed and sat on the bed.

“How’s my little rosebud?” He rubbed the blanket where he thought Dale’s shoulder might be.

The pile grumbled and shuffled away from him slightly.

“Aw, come on now Coop. You still mad at me? I brought you some tea.”

The blankets were still for a moment, but after some strategic wiggling, a pink nose revealed itself under a pair of drowsy eyes shaded by ungelled hair.

“I’d rather some coffee,” Coop blinked in the dim bedroom light.

“Here,” Harry passed him the mug, “I’m trying to keep you hydrated, doctor’s orders.”

“What doctor? I want a second opinion.”

“Dr. Truman DDS and I can have Albert on the phone in two seconds if you’d like.”

“A third opinion then. Wait, did you...is there coffee in your mug? Harry! That is the definition of insult to injury.”

“Coffee’s for well people. No coffee for you.”

Dale frowned and looked down at his tea, “In that case, yes, I’m still mad at you.”

Harry took a long sip from his mug to hide a smile. Any frustration in Dale’s voice was softened with congestion and sleep, which he couldn’t help but find cute.

“Well, I’m real sorry Darlin.”

After a sip, Dale sighed gratefully, “Couldn’t be helped. That last case wore me out.”  
The tea left his lips as pink as his nose and brought some life to his cheeks. As the flush draped over Dale gracefully, Harry shook his head.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what exactly?” Dale sniffled and reached halfheartedly for the tissue box on the nightstand.

“All of it,” Harry motioned for him to relax, put his coffee cup down on the nightstand and picked up the box. “Every morning we wake up next to each other, and I look...like a sack of potatoes. Here ya go. Meanwhile, you look incredible, with a cold no less.”

“Oh stop,” Dale’s cheeks jittered slightly as he tried to hold back a smile and pulled at a few tissues.

“You do not look like a sack of potatoes. And if it helps, I don’t feel incredible.”

“Coulda fooled me. I’m more than lucky,” he leaned forward and ran his hand over Dale’s forehead and through his hair, surreptitiously checking for the fever that had kept him so worked up the week before. So far, Dale was in the clear.

“It’s all the coffee, or so I’m told.”

“Yeah. Nice try. Do you want anything besides coffee Agent Cooper?

Dale sighed and eyed Harry coyly, “Unfortunately, I may not have the energy for what I really want.”

“It’s nice to know I’m a close second.”

“Very, very close. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to make you late.”

“Late for what?”

“For...for work.”

“Oh. About that, ” Harry stretched dramatically and laid back on the bed being mindful of Dale’s legs.  
“I’m off today.”

A sharp nudge from under the blanket, jostled Harry forward and he muffled a laugh.

“You are not.”

“I’m not?”

“No. It’s Thursday,” Dale rubbed his eyes and yawned. “It _is_ Thursday right? I slept so much yesterday...since when are you off?”

“Since you were up all night coughing.”

“Harry…”

“Now, now, I’m not the one who flew out of Utah like a bat outta hell to take care of me.”

Dale started to say something, but pouted instead and took another sip of tea.

“It’s not just that,” Harry rolled onto his side to look at Dale.

“Think it's about time I do things differently. Things are different after all. You're here now.”

Dale set down his mug and looked at Harry as seriously as he could with sleep still in his eyes.

“That's true.”

“I think we should shoot for that more. If you’re gonna be off, or sick, or anything, I wanna make myself more available, if I can. Be a little more on call.”

“That’s...it’s a nice thought.”

The blankets bunched under Harry as he sat up to look at Dale, who was trying his best not to look worried.

“I’ve given a lot to this town, it’s damn important to me, it is but, maybe it’s ok to let go of the reigns a little bit. We’ve got the budget, I’ve got the men. It’s not the worst idea. And I’m not out of the loop, I’d just be a little less hands on, that’s all. I’m gonna talk to Hawk, see if he wants to take on more responsibility, give him a raise. Hell I know he could do it, he just doesn’t want to. Then we’ll take it from there.”

“Are you sure? Harry?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m really sure. It’s no good Dale. I feel like you’ve done what you can to be here with me, I wanna meet you in the middle.

“You’re letting me live with you. We moved in together.”

“I let you?” Harry chuckled, “Dale, that’s different. I didn’t let you, I wanted you to. We were gonna do that one way or another. Y’know? That’s not a sacrifice. You’ve given up a lot for me.”

A wash of surprise chased out a bit of the haze that had settled into Dale’s face for a moment.

“Harry…”

“Don’t worry, it’s just a test. If it doesn’t work out, we just go back to the way things were. It’s my station, it’s my town, bout time I start running it the way I need to. Been running it someone else’s way for too long.”

For Dale, there wasn’t much else to say once Harry made his mind up about something. It’s not as though he had any objections.

“Well...alright then.”

“Good. Shove over.” Harry moved to sit next to Dale by the headboard.

The chill in the air had settled into the land in the usual way, and Harry knew wouldn’t lift until late March. It was hard to believe they were coming up on a year since Dale had entered his life. With everything that had happened, Harry was still waiting for the other shoe to drop but now he was finally feeling that nothing was coming. His feet were firmly on the ground. If there was nothing else to worry about but colds and other mundanities, he could handle that.

“I finished carving that pumpkin, I’m not sure what you were going for though.”

“A classic Jack O’Lantern,” Dale said matter of factly.

“Oh,” he tried not to grimace as he thought back on the crooked smile he tried to scrawl into the gourd, not his best.

“Well, you’ll have to take a look when you’re feeling up to it. Get that Dale Cooper seal of approval.”

The day before, he had come home to find a disemboweled pumpkin languishing on their kitchen counter and an aproned  
Dale Cooper asleep on the couch. Harry was already concerned when Dale skipped his yoga routine that morning in exchange for a little more sleep.

By the time the coughing had started in earnest, Harry had already made preparations for soup.

“I’m sure I’ll love it. Wish I could have helped.” Dale had been talking about decorating the house for the season for some time but between work and looking after Harry, he hadn’t the chance and probably wouldn’t before Halloween.

“Nah, you picked em out, that was more than enough. I never have time to do stuff like that. It’s nice.”

Dale muffled a cough into his tissue and groaned.

“Next year,” Harry wrapped an arm around Dale to pull him close and rub his shoulder, “Think we oughta keep you in bed this weekend but next year we’ll do something.”

There was a sniffle and a sigh, and soon Dale had nestled comfortably into Harry’s sweater.

Next year. Harry marveled at the thought.  
And the year after that.  
And even the one after that.

Harry looked down at Dale and saw the years ahead in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. It honestly means a lot. That's it! <3


End file.
